Scythewing
by esama
Summary: ABANDONED. During a rainy day in the summer after his second year at Hogwarts, Harry meets the man he could have become had things been very different.
1. Chapter 1

**Scythewing**

**I chapter**

Harry kicked a piece of rock angrily while making his way towards the play ground of the Little Whinging. The play ground was deserted but that was no wonder. It was raining heavily and lighting was crashing somewhere in the distance, so no sensible person was out. No one but him, but he wasn't there by choice, his Aunt had kicked him out of the house for the day while she cleaned.

"Rather counterproductive, that," Harry muttered, throwing a look at his sneakers. They were already soaked and muddy. "I'll leave mud tracts all over the place when I go back." And then, naturally, he would get yelled at for it. "Just brilliant."

He would've much preferred to stay inside, and not just because of the rain. Dudley was out at his friend Piers' house and was going to stay the night there. Vernon on other hand had a conference in London and was going to stay the night as well. With them gone and Aunt Petunia busy, Harry could've concentrated peacefully to his school stuff, which he usually only dared to do during nights.

But, of course, Aunt Petunia would have none of it and Harry was suspecting that the woman was going to keep him out of the house for the entire night. She didn't want to be left alone with him, after all.

"Bloody hell," the twelve year old muttered, whipping his glasses off his face and trying, in vain, wipe the water off them. Pushing them back to his wet face, he looked around in the playground, tying to remember whether there was any sort of shelter there, anything to shield the rain. There wasn't any, just some monkey bars, set of wings, rusty carousel and sand box.

Muttering curses, Harry walked to the patch of bushes and trees. Lighting never came down in this area so he had no fear in finding shelter from underneath a tree. It was even muddier among the trees and the ground was uneven with rocks and roots, but most of the rain was shielded by the branches and the leaves. Leaning to the trunk of the oldest tree, Harry took his glasses off again and tried to dry them to his sleeve, which was possibly even wetter than they were. This time the rain didn't cover them immediately.

Oh if only he could do little bit of magic. A water repelling charm to the glasses and clothes along with a warming charm… except he didn't know a warming charm for clothes. He wasn't even sure if there was one. Hermione would know, he thought grimly while peering up to the cloudy sky. But Hermione hadn't contacted him at all that summer.

If he was fair, it had only been a week and a half since their second year at Hogwarts ended, so not much time had passed since the last time they had seen and talked. Hermione and Ron both knew how little Harry's family liked the idea of Harry's friends contacting him - and Harry contacting them. The first thing his uncle had done that summer was to make Harry swear that he wouldn't try.

So Hermione and Ron were probably keeping silent to avoid Harry getting into trouble. It didn't make Harry any happier thought. He could be dead and no one would know, he mused sadly as lightning flashed upon him. It could strike him that very moment and he would die, and no one would know. And it would probably take them a while to find out too.

Aunt Petunia wouldn't care; she'd be pleased if he managed to never show up on her doorstep again. With no letters going back or forth between Harry and the Wizarding world, no one would find out for a long while. They might figure that something was missing when he would fail to show up in the train on September the first, but that was weeks and weeks away…

Shaking his head against his morose thoughts, Harry frowned. He had survived a childhood at the Dursleys, Snape and two faced professor Quirrell at Hogwarts, complete isolation last summer thanks to Dobby and the whole Heir of Slytherin and Diary mess of last year. He had come face to face with a basilisk and he had survived! Little bit of loneliness and rain wouldn't bring him down.

It wasn't even that cold, just uncomfortable, he mused. The day before the rain had been unbearably hot, so the rain was rather nice after it. It would soon start bothering him, no doubt, but right now it was just mildly unpleasant. He had certainly gone through worse.

While listening to the lightning and counting the time between the flash and the sound, Harry wondered if wizards had their own theories about what lightning was. Was it, to them too, some natural electricity or was it something… else?

When he thought about it, the way lightning was born according to Muggles was rather far fetched. It seemed plausible to him after all the times it had been explained to him back in his muggle school, that lightning was electricity, and yet… Maybe that was just another cover up of the International Statue of Wizarding Secrecy. Maybe lightning was in fact magic, or maybe some sort of magical creature that lived in the clouds?

Entertaining himself with the ideas of snakes made of lightning and some deranged wizard keeping them as a pet, Harry barely heard the rustling of the leaves and branches upon him. Another thunderous boom of lighting covered it for moment but when a twig snapped and fell to Harry's head, he couldn't avoid noticing it.

He looked up just in time to see a mass of grey falling right towards his head, only avoided from doing so thanks to Harry's Seeker instincts which made him thrusts his hands up to catch the thing before it hit him. Then, more confused than anything, Harry lowered his hands and the thing he was now holding.

It was warm, fluffy, wet and most definitely not a snitch. Looking at the creature in his hands now with slight shock, Harry came into conclusion that it was a bird. It wasn't an owl like Harry would've expected it to be, but another sort of winged predator. Hawk or eagle or falcon or something like that. And, by the sound of the pained screech it made, it wasn't quite right.

Kneeling to the muddy ground and settling the motionless bird to his knees, Harry quickly examined it. It didn't even cross his mind that as a wild bird it might lash out to him, claw him or bite him. He was too adjusted to owls which were used to human contacts, that he simply started checking the bird to see if it was injured, carefully spreading the speedy, wet wings and checking them for damage.

The bird's right wing had a burn mark in it, and by the looks of it, the bird couldn't move it. While Harry stared at the burn mark, wondering what he should do, the bird eyed him sharply and screeched again weakly. Then, to Harry's surprise, it struggled out of his lap and to the muddy ground where it weakly rolled to its talons

"Hey, I'm just trying to help!" Harry said to it quickly but the bird ignored him, hobbling away a few feet before stopping and ruffling its undamaged wing. Then, as Harry stood up to follow it, is shuddered and started to… change. Harry had seen such a transformation only once, when Professor McGonagall was demonstrating Animagus abilities to their class. And just like McGonagall had turned into a cat and back again, the bird in front of Harry was turning into a human.

"You're a… wizard!" Harry gasped with surprise and then worry. Then he rushed forward. The man was hurt, and probably needed help. "Hey, are you alright?"

The man pushed him a bit back with his good arm when Harry tried to help him before turning to look at Harry. He had short black hair which was even spikier than Harry's and slightly crooked nose which gave him slightly hawk-like look. He was wearing a coat, pants and boots, which all looked like they had been made of dragon hide. His forehead and hairline had been covered by dark green bandana which almost covered his eyebrows as well.

"I'm not dying. I just broke my wing," the man muttered, falling to sit on his knees and clutching onto his broken arm. Then he eyed Harry. "You're up and about in a ghastly weather, kid."

"Never mind that, you're hurt," Harry sad, trying to see the man's wounded arm. It looked rather badly burned. "What happened to you? Should you go to hospital?"

The man snorted. "No need to do that," he said, taking out a wand from holster that peeked out from his sleeve and pointing the wand his arm. Then, before casting any spells, he paused and looked back at Harry. "You a wizard, then? Must be, takes one to know one… You should back away a bit, kid."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're a kid. And it's summer. Do you want your Trace to pick up my magic? The ministry might pin it on you, considering that we're on muggle area," the man said and when Harry just looked at him blankly, the man sighed. "The Trace is the way ministry will tell when underage witch or wizard does magic. It picks up all magic which is done close enough to you. So back away a bit, kid. Ten, twelve feet will be enough."

Confused Harry backed away just a little at first but when the man just continued to wait, he backed away more. Once the man was satisfied with Harry's distance, he turned to his arm again and muttered spells. Whatever he did, he finished it by creating a bandage and then a crutch before conjuring a sling for the arm. "Alright, I'm done," the man said, motion Harry come back forward.

"What happened to you?" Harry asked once he was close enough to speak without having to raise his voice too much. "Did you hit a power line or…"

The man snorted. "I know better than to hit those things. No, I was hit with a curse which makes healing this a bit hard," he muttered, flexing his left hand uncomfortably at his wand handle. Then he looked around. "Where am I anyway? Some suburban muggle area but… those all look the same."

"Little Whinging. Surrey," Harry said, though he was more interested about the man getting hit with a curse than about where they were. "Who hit you?" he asked. "Why?"

"Why anyone hits another with a wounding curse? They wanted to kill me," the man waved his hand at the matter. "I think I lost them in the rain clouds. Weird though, for a moment I thought I got hit with a lightning but… it must've been a curse. Though if I'm Surrey, we flied a lot further than I thought…"

The man stood up and peered to the sky like expecting someone to swoop down on a broomstick. After moment of tense silence, he then turned to look at Harry. "Who are you anyway?" he asked. "You look kind of familiar. Have we met before?"

Harry look at the man's short wet hair, hawk-like face and sharp green eyes and shook his head. "I don't think we've met," he said slowly, but the fact that the man knew him didn't surprise him. Everyone in the magical world knew what he looked like. "I'm… Harry Potter."

The man stared at him for a moment with a blank look about his face before raising his hand and ruffling Harry's wet hair. "Very funny, kid," he said. "Now tell me who you really are."

"No, really, I am Harry Potter," the boy answered with slight irritation, pushing the man's hand away in order to push back his sobbing bangs. "See?" he asked, showing the scar.

"It looks authentic, but you're not fooling anyone. For one, you're way too young to be Harry Potter," the man said calmly before lifting his hand and pulling the bandana down from his forehead to rest around his neck. "And there is this," he said tapping his bared forehead.

Harry gaped for a moment in outraged shock. The scar on the man's forehead looked identical to his - except he had always only seen reflection of it. But why would this man pretend to be him? Everyone knew how old he was, when he had been born and exactly how long it had been since he had gotten the scar. This man was probably twenty or more years too old for that.

But then Harry frowned. The man's eyes and facial structures were familiar. The hair too, though it was much shorter than Harry's. The man looked a little like Harry's father, like James Potter, except for the eyes. They were birth green, sharper than Harry's own, sharper than Lily Potter's, but still green. The man's nose, how ever, made the greatest difference. Harry hadn't made the connection before because the man's nose was slightly crooked - not as much as Snape's or Dumbledore's, but it still wasn't quite straight.

While he had been looking at the man, the man had been doing the same. "Wait a moment," he muttered, bending and peering right into Harry's eyes with strange, penetrating look that Harry usually associated with professor Dumbledore and Snape. "What year is it?" the man asked slowly.

"Nineteen ninety three," Harry answered. "June," he added for good measure.

"Well damn," the man said, grabbing a hold of Harry's chin and tilting his head to the side. "You're actually telling the truth. This is odd though. I've never been in Surrey in my life. What are you doing here? You look weird too. Way too thin to be me."

"I _live_ here. During the summers anyway," Harry said, slapping the man's hand away from him. The reality was only barely sinking in, but he was determined not to jump into conclusions before he knew a bit more. "Is time travel possible?" he asked slowly.

"Oh yeah, it's even pretty easy if you know the trick of it," the man nodded, still eying him thoughtfully. "You _live_ in here?" he then asked. "That can't be right. I've certainly never lived here."

"Well I've lived here most of my life!" Harry snapped, glaring at the other. "So you can't be me. You even have different nose than I do. Who are you?"

"Lay off the nose. It's not my fault the healer did shoddy job fixing it," the man snapped, but other than that he was barely listening to Harry. "Maybe I was hit by lightning rather than the bastards chasing after me. There was a study about lightning now that I think about, about magic of splitting space and whatnot…" he muttered, turning away and pacing a few steps away and the back again, absently rubbing his broken arm. "What did it say again…? Damn it, I should've read it better… this isn't time travel as I know it…"

"Maybe you've travelled into another reality," Harry suggested rather sarcastically, but he found himself unable to really believe that the man was insane impostor. The man certainly didn't act like impostor should've and if he had been trying to pretend to be Harry, his age was all wrong and so were his features.

The man stopped and then nodded. "Yeah… yeah that could be it. I'm in the past of different reality," he muttered and then frowned. The action made his face look even more hawk-like than before and for a moment Harry wondered if he'd look like that if his nose would ever break. "Well… damn."

"I'll say," Harry muttered. "If you didn't know up in Little Whinging, where did you grow up?"

"London mostly," the man said, looking at Harry thoughtfully. "You weren't raised by the Ministry of Magic?" he then asked curiously, while pushing his bandana back up and adjusting it to his forehead to cover the scar.

"You _were_?" Harry asked with shock. When the man just nodded Harry coughed awkwardly. "I, uh… I live with my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. Oh, and my cousin lives there too," he said, motioning haphazardly towards the general direction of Number Four. "I've lived there since my parents died."

The man blinked. "Huh," he muttered rather flatly and there was gleam of something in his eyes. "All my relatives are dead," he said. "That's why I was taken in by the Ministry."

"You weren't even adopted?" Harry asked with surprise.

"There were offers, but considering everything they figured that I, as special case, didn't need really need family. Training me was more important," the man muttered, still eying Harry with that strange gleam in his eyes. "Are you… happy with your aunt and uncle?" he asked.

Harry snorted. "Not in the slightest. I hate it here, I'd much rather live at Hogwarts or any other place if I could," he said, shaking his head. "Why didn't Aunt Petunia exist in your world?"

"Mum's entire family was killed by Voldemort," the man answered before frowning again. "Wait, let's start from the beginning. It's obvious we come from different worlds, and I need to know how different this one is. You have the scar so obviously Voldemort tried to kill you too and failed on the night of…" he trailed away, looked Harry expectantly.

"On night of Halloween in year nineteen eighty one, the night my parents died," Harry answered. "The following day I was brought to the Dursleys where I've lived ever since.

"Alright, that's different. I was taken into the ministry," the man muttered thoughtfully. "And my world Petunia and her husband were killed year or so before I was born. So were my grandparents from mum's side, or so I heard…" he looked up again. "You haven't been trained by the Ministry at all?" he then asked, reaching out and taking hold of Harry's upper arm. He flexed his fingers and snorted, apparently finding Harry's bicep wanting. "Obviously not."

Harry frowned. "Why would they want to train me?" he asked snappily, pulling his hand back. "I'm just a kid! Why did they train _you_?"

"Well, because you, and I, are Harry Potter," the other answered. "Because we have lot of enemies... and because of the Prophesy, naturally."

"Because of the what?" the boy asked confusedly.

"You haven't heard of the Prophesy?" the man blinked. "Well, that's another thing which different. It was drilled into my head before I turned five," he said and then frowned. "Or maybe it doesn't exist here. It could be different too… different world and all…"

"What prophesy?" Harry demanded.

"Never mind that. You go to Hogwarts?" the man asked. "You enjoy being there?" he then added, sounding a bit amazed.

The younger wizard blinked and then answered rather incredulously. "Well… yes. Of course. I finished my second year week and half ago," the boy said slowly. Then he looked at the other with concern. "Wait, you were raised by the ministry. Does this mean you didn't go?"

"Oh, I did go," the man's check twitched slightly. "Except I was a bit over trained so I was allowed to skip the first two years and I went straight to the third one. You started from the first one, right?"

"Yeah, so?" Harry asked. He was starting to feel mighty unworthy next to this man. Skipping two years before even attending to Hogwarts? That was something he doubted even Hermione could do. "You were trained before Hogwarts, right? I didn't even know I was a wizard before I turned eleven! Of course I couldn't skip years."

The man sighed. Surprisingly enough he had slightly wistful look about his face. "You don't know how lucky you are," he said. "You have… friends in Hogwarts, right?" he then asked.

"Ah… yeah," the boy answered, now a bit slower. "You didn't?"

There was a moment of silence before the man shook his head. "You got to start from the beginning," he murmured and shook his head with incredulous awe. "I sometimes I imagined what it would be like, to be like the others and start from nothing, but…"

Slowly something dawned for the younger one as he looked at the other. "Are you… are you actually jealous of _me_?" Harry asked with disbelief. "You got trained by the ministry, you knew all sort of stuff before you even went to Hogwarts, you went straight to your third year, and you're jealous of _me_?"

The man shrugged uncaringly and opted not to comment on that. "What are your friends like?" he asked instead while the lightning cracked upon them. "Who are they? Are they your age?"

"Yeah, Hermione and Ron, we've been friends since first year," Harry answered a bit uncomfortably. "Though I think I'm friendly with Dean and Seamus and Neville too…"

"Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley?" the man asked with surprise. "Wow," he then muttered, looking almost shocked.

"There's nothing wrong with Hermione and Ron," Harry snapped. The way the man went back and forth between jealousy and belittlement was starting to grate his nerves.

"Of course there isn't. The Weasley family were famous for their efforts in the war and Granger was one of the brightest witches before…" the man trailed away. "Wait, Neville? Neville Longbottom?" he asked. "He's alive here?"

"He isn't in your world?" Harry asked, wondering exactly what the Weasleys had done in what war.

"No, died few months after my parents along with his parents," the man answered, making Harry wonder just why was his Neville living with his grandmother. He had actually never heard of Neville's parents. Had they died in the war too, like Harry's parents? "Are his parents alive?" the man asked, echoing his thoughts.

"I don't know, I've never really asked. He lives with his grandmother though, so they might not be…" Harry shrugged helplessly.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. In your first year at Hogwarts, was there a… hmm…" the man frowned for a moment, apparently not sure how to put his thoughts. "An incident? Was any of the third floor corridors sealed from students?"

"You mean was the Philosopher's Stone hidden in the school?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrow. "Did Quirrell have Voldemort in the back of his head in your world too? Did you stop him too?"

"So that's the same," the elder one nodded with small measure of satisfaction and slight worry about his face. "Your second year, last year I guess… anyone petrified?"

Harry nodded. "Tom Riddle's, Voldemort's, diary was possessing Ginny," he said. "And making Slytherin's basilisk attack people. I managed to stop it and kill the diary before it killed Ginny."

The man before him winced as if struck. "You managed to save Ginerva Weasley then?" he asked and grimaced. "I didn't."

"She _died_ in your world?" Harry asked with shock as the memories from the Chamber of Secrets came to his mind. For horrible moment back there, he too had thought that he wouldn't manage to save her, but in the end he had and everything had turned out all right. Even if he had been bitten by a basilisk in the process. "Damn. What happened in your third year? Or fifth, since you skipped the first two."

"Ah, never had one. I was withdrawn from Hogwarts for more… intense training with the Aurors after I failed to save her," the man shook his head. "The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement thought that Hogwarts was making me soft, so I wasn't allowed to return."

"You weren't _allowed_? You didn't have say in the matter?" Harry asked.

"Of course not. I did take my OWLs the next year and the NEWTs in the year after that, though, so I did get full education. Just not Hogwarts education" the elder version of him shrugged and then smiled a slightly relieved smile. "It's nice to know that someone managed to save her though. She was a bit too young to die in my opinion."

Harry nodded, though he was feeling slightly uneasy now. There was something seriously… wrong about this older version of him and he already had inkling what it was. "How old are you?" he asked after moment of thinking.

"Twenty seven. Twenty eight soon," the older version of him answered and then grinned at Harry's look of surprise. "It's the nose," he said, lifting his hand and rubbing his fingers along the crooked nose. "Makes me look older."

"I… see. How did it break?"

"How noses usually break. It met a force stronger than the nasal bone," the man shook his head. "I was lucky that the idiot who healed it managed to get it at least straight," he muttered and glanced up to the sky. "Seems like the rain is slowing down," he murmured, raising his hand and feeling the rain.

Glancing up, Harry was suddenly overcome with a strange anxiousness. "What will you do?" he asked. "Are you going to try to go back to your world?"

The man frowned. "I'd rather not. I don't… particularly care for that place," he said, looking at him thoughtfully. "I have absolutely nothing there I'd miss if I'd be forced to stay here."

"Nothing? No one? No friends at all? How about your job? You work for the Ministry of your world, right?" Harry asked, not sure what he felt about the concept of this elder - and no doubt stronger - version of him staying in his world.

"No one and… it wasn't really a job. Besides I haven't been really working for anyone in more than ten years now," the man shook his head. "Not since Voldemort took over the Ministry. Mostly I've been running away from the Death Eaters. I was living rather peaceful life as a falcon when they caught me again and chased me through a thunderstorm"

Harry blinked and then his eyes widened. "Voldemort took over the ministry in your world?" he asked with horror.

The man snorted. "It wasn't much of a take over and of course he never made himself the minister, but he still started to run it," he muttered. "It was easy for him too. Half of the ministry was working for him anyway, rest were either killed or put under the Imperius curse. And the Minister himself was living in Lucius's Malfoy's back pocket; they didn't even need to curse him to make him do Voldemort's bidding."

"And you didn't fight back? What about Dumbledore, didn't he do anything?" Harry asked with horror. "And what's the Imperius Curse?"

"Imperius is a dark curse that will make you do another's bidding without being able to help yourself. It basically turns a person into puppet of another. As for what comes to Dumbledore… well, he and I never really saw eye to eye," the elder one grimaced. "And of course I fought but the first thing they did was to frame me of handful of murders, make me a wanted person and put a huge bounty on my head. It helped that people already considered me a bit too… well, they had their doubts of me ever since my stay at Hogwarts. I wasn't exactly well liked back then."

"Why would they doubt you because of Hogwarts?"

The other looked at him with surprise and then grinned. "You're a _Gryffindor_," he suddenly said. "Ha, I always wondered that too… I went to Slytherin," he said smirking at Harry's horrified look. "Of course it made people wary of me. Then the whole chamber of secret stuff happened and… well. People thought I was in my way of going dark."

"Are you?" Harry asked, now incredibly uneasy with the other. Slytherin. Alternate reality version of him had gone into Slytherin.

"Dark?" the other smirked. "That is a matter of perspective. See, during times of war these things kind of blur. Use of deadly force can be sanctioned - happened during the first war. Am I capable of using dark curses? Oh yes, definitely. But do I enjoy them?" he shrugged his shoulders. "No, I don't. I've only killed when there hasn't been any other option and I have never tortured anyone. And I never will. So, maybe I am a bit dark. But I don't consider myself evil."

Harry frowned uneasily at him. "What are Aurors? And the Unforgivable curses?" he then asked never having heard of them.

The other seemed almost happy that he didn't know. "Aurors are Dark Wizard catchers. Kind of like muggle police but with wands," he explained. "Unforgivable curses on other hand are, well, curses which are unforgivable. There is the Killing Curse which you and I survived. Then there is the Cruciatus curse, a torture curse. And then there is the Imperius curse which I already told you about," he paused. "Of course they stopped being so unforgivable when Voldemort took over back in my world."

Harry nodded uneasily. He could understand why the man didn't want to return to his world, but the idea of him staying here… Harry didn't like it at all. "If you'll stay here… what will you do?"

"Hm. I have no idea. I wasn't exactly prepared for this," the man muttered, going through the pockets of his leather coat. "Good thing I have all my things with me. Maybe I'll take a fake identity and start a new life. I should have some gold for it." He took out a thing which looked like a match box and shook it. It made a roaring sound of coins hitting against each other. "Yeah, they're still here."

"You have gold in that?" Harry asked. It didn't look big enough to even hold a Sickle. Few Knuts maybe, but definitely not a single Galleon.

"Undetectable expansion charm, along with lightening charm and shrinking charm. All my possessions are compressed like this, it makes me able to keep them in my pockets at all times," the man shrugged, pushing the match box back to his inner pocket. "When you live on the run you want to keep everything you might need close at hand."

Harry nodded uncertainly. "So you'll… buy a house somewhere?" he asked nervously. "And take a fake name?"

"I could. It doesn't sound particularly appealing though. I'm not really that peaceful, I imagine I'd go nuts trying to play house," the man mused and looked at him before moving his broken arm a little. "With this I don't really dare to go anywhere either. I won't be comfortable before I can fly properly again."

With bang of envy Harry remembered that this alternate version of him was an Animagus. He quickly shook the thought away. "How long will it take for your arm to heal?" he asked.

"A few weeks at least," the man said, looking at him still. He had the strange, jealous gleam in his eyes again. "You know, I'm pretty curious about your life. You… are living the life I always wanted."

Harry snorted. "Can't imagine why, I hate it," he muttered before frowning as he realised what the man was suggesting. "And I don't think Aunt Petunia would approve me bringing a stranger to the house."

"How about a strange bird then? I can stick to my Animagus form, if it's less inconspicuous," the other offered with strangely hopeful look about his face.

Harry's frown wavered anxiously. He wasn't sure if he wanted the man to come with him but… he was starting to understand. This elder version of him hadn't lived the sort of life Harry was leading. Whatever it meant to him, the elder version of him had wanted that sort of life, but never had gotten it. And he had never even had friends. Harry could understand the want for something like that but in the same time…

What would prevent this man from taking his place somehow? Or from hurting him or his friends? Or ruining his life completely?

"Ah… ah, I see," the elder murmured, apparently reading his mind somehow. "You're worried that I'll interfere with your live. Hm. I guess that's logical, I would worry too. How about I'll make a vow?" he asked, suddenly dropping to his knee. "I can't make it a magical vow, we'd need a third person for that and seeing that it's summer it's not wise to do serious magic like that near you anyway, but now… I can promise that I don't mean you harm. Or your friends or anyone else."

"Vows can be broken," Harry muttered.

"Not magical ones, if you break those you'll die. Once you'll get to a place where you can do magic, I'll swear a magical oath," the man offered. "Alright?"

Harry hesitated.

"I could even work as your bodyguard. As Harry Potter you should have long line of enemies, Voldemort for heaven's sake," the man pointed out. "I'd be a pretty good bodyguard, I think. I'm very good at fighting and such."

"Alright. But I will be checking this magical oath thing out," Harry said with a frown. "What will I call you? You're Harry Potter like me, but I can't call you that, you know?"

"Falcon will do, I think," the man shrugged. "I've been called that before so it's familiar name for me. Easy enough to remember too, I think."

Harry nodded. "Alright then. Falcon," he said. "You should know though, staying with me is going to be pretty boring. My guardians don't like magic at all. Most of the time I'm locked up in my room, and I'm not even allowed to do my school stuff."

"I think I'll manage," the man grinned, hawk-like and not at all reassuring. "Should I change back to bird now?"

"Yeah, I think I should be heading back anyway… wait," Harry stopped. "How come this Trace didn't pick up your Animagus transformation earlier?"

"It's not really magic as magic usually comes. Animagus transformation is considered a spell only when you do it the first time. After that it's natural part of the Animagi, and not really act of magic…" the man trailed away. "I can explain it better some other time."

Soon after the man, Falcon, turned into speedy form of his Animagus, which now adorned a bandage around the right wing. Seeing that the bird couldn't fly, Harry picked it up to his arms and headed back towards the Privet Drive number four, wondering how he'd manage to smuggle the bird up to his room without Aunt Petunia noticing.

x

I'm kind of wary about posting it because I have so many other fics still unfinished and this one is... well. Falcon is bit of a touchy character and I'm not sure if he will be liked at all. I like this fic though, and I have problems continuing so I was hoping that possible comments could help me get on with this... well, if I won't be liked I can just remove it I suppose.

My apologies for possible grammar errors.


	2. Chapter 2

**II chapter**

Falcon was a… strange addition to Harry's daily life in the Dursley house, but not entirely unwelcome one. And as nervous as Harry was about the man, his alternate self, he got adjusted to the man and begun to, not quite relate to, but understand the man.

During days the man remained quietly in his Animagus form, sitting in Hedwig's cage which Harry had now covered with a shirt of his so that no one could see what was inside if they looked from the door. Harry's own snowy owl had been at first suspicious about the addition, but had calmed down soon enough and now, as Falcon couldn't fly or hunt, she brought him food. Each morning the Animagus would be tear apart some rat or bird Hedwig now brought to him, much to Harry's disgust, but the man didn't seem bothered by eating raw rat innards.

During nights, when everyone else were asleep, Falcon would turn into a man again. For some time they'd sit in quiet, dark room before Harry would take out his school things and start working on his essays in the light of his stolen flash light. Falcon sometimes craned his neck to see what he was working on or leafed though Harry's History of Magic or Potions book.

"Do you really need to do this in secret?" the man asked in his first night there, his voice low as he was turning the book in his left hand as if expecting it to say something different if he looked it from different angle. "It would be much easier to do your homework in the daylight, I think."

Harry threw a nervous look towards the door, but the man's voice seemed to be low enough not to be heard. "They locked up the rest of my school stuff," he answered in a whisper, making a demonstrating motion with his quill. "If they'd know I had all this, they'd throw it into the cupboard under the stairs - and me with them, probably," he said. "They hate magic."

"Hate? Fear more likely. People tend to hate things they fear and fear things they don't understand," Falcon mused, resting the book on his knees and turning the page. "Strange though, if Petunia is Lily's sister… she grew up with a witch and yet seems to have no understanding for magic."

Harry shifted in his bed. "I think she's jealous. Their mum and dad were proud of Lily, really liked having a witch in the family. And mum was, well… pretty and smart and stuff like that. Add magical powers to the mix, she was everything Aunt Petunia wasn't," he whispered. "I bet Aunt Petunia would've liked magic if she had been a witch too."

"Well, it's against the nature of magic for magical creatures to loathe it," the man said, giving him a sharp look. "And stop doing that. Whispering. Whispers carry far," he told, turning his attention to the book again. "Just lower your voice. Its quieter like that - easier to discern if someone eavesdrop but less carrying."

Harry blinked with confusion, shifting slightly again. His elbows were going numb as he leaned onto them. "All right," he agreed, trying at the same low voice the man was using. Then he placed his quill down for the moment as his potions essay was in no hurry to be written. "Falcon, could you explain the Animagus transformation for me? You said that it isn't actually magic."

"It is magic the first time you do it," the man said, closing the book with disinterest. "Difficult bit of magic at that, took me four years to get the spells right. And really, Animagus transformation only happens once after that it's just changing back and forth between forms." Seeing that the boy didn't understand, he explained. "Animagi aren't completely human, you know. I am just much Peregrine Falcon as I am human. I don't just change _into_ a bird, I _am_ a bird. Half way anyway."

He leaned his head back against the wall. "Anyone can transfigure another person into an animal, but that's about it, they are then animal with animal mind and animal instincts. But Animagus in their animal form retain their minds and memories and, once changed back to human, carry some of the animal with them," he spoke thoughtfully. "Animagus transformation, the first time it happens and the spells you do, it's like amalgamation of two creatures, man and animal. Complete, irreversible alteration to you self. After that it becomes your nature to change back and forth."

"So, Animagi are partially animal even in their human forms?" Harry asked curiously and then frowned, thinking of professor McGonagall. She wasn't even remotely cat like. Or… perhaps she was. Harry wasn't exactly an expert in cats.

"Exactly," the man nodded and motioned at his eyes. "Take these for example. You and I inherited our dad's horrible eyesight, and I, like you, needed glasses from when I was really young. But my Animagus form as a _perfect_ eyesight, many, many times better than any human. Some of that carried over to me from my falcon when I first transformed and fixed my near-sightedness."

"You mean you have eyesight of a falcon?" Harry asked.

"Oh, not even nearly. In my Animagus form I can see perfect details mile away, human eyes aren't capable of that. But, for a human, my far-sight is now decent, except for one thing," Falcon said before pulling out pair of angular glasses from his coat's inner pocket. "Reading glasses," he explained.

"So, it didn't repair your eyesight completely," Harry nodded, wondering if the man had been able to read anything at all if he needed reading glasses.

"No, but it helped. And thankfully my near-vision is still good enough that I can usually go without my glasses," Falcon said, pushing the glasses back to his pocket. "Some people would rather die than ever try the Animagus transformation," he then said. "Because it makes people animal-like, certain… posh… wizards tend to think that it's demeaning."

"That's ridiculous. I'd happily welcome some animal characteristics if that meant I could turn into animal at will," Harry said, glancing towards the window. Sometimes he'd give anything to be bird like Falcon and just fly care freely in the sky. "I'd love to be a bird."

"If you're anything like me, then I think your Animagus form would also be avian," Falcon said, resting his head against the wall again and closing his eyes. "Even before I got my wings, sort of speak, I was more comfortable in air than in the ground."

Harry nodded, though the man probably couldn't see it. "Could you teach me?" he asked before wincing as he heard a snort coming from Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's room.

"I could help you get started but it takes a while to master the spells. They are really difficult," the man said calmly. "So don't expect any grand amount of success within the month or the year. You might not even manage whilst you're still at Hogwarts."

Harry frowned. "I still want to learn," he said.

Sometimes during their nightly chats, they talked about the differences and similarities between their worlds. Falcon turned almost dangerously hawk-like when he heard that Fudge was the Minister of Magic and was disappointed that Harry didn't know who ran the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry on other hand suffered a shock hearing about the death of Albus Dumbledore in Falcon's world.

"I think I was about eighteen or nineteen at the time," the man mused. "I was out of country then, in Africa I think. Hiding, you know, as I had already been a hunted man for year or two. I only heard about it later on, but I never really did hear whether he was killed in battle or if it was something else…"

"What happened to him when Voldemort took over the ministry?" Harry asked.

"He was, naturally, kicked out of the International Confederation of Wizards, and the Wizengamot two years before that happened - and of course, he was driven out of Hogwarts too," Falcon said uncaringly. "Voldemort didn't want him in position of power after all, and it helped that the Minister was an idiot and discredited Dumbledore at every turn. I think he ran some sort of vigilante group for a while. Order of something, can't remember what. They did some successful operations and took out some Death Eaters and so forth, but… it didn't do much of a dent really."

"Death Eater?" Harry asked curiously. He could hardly imagine it, Dumbledore running a vigilante group. Probably because thank to Dudley's comic books, he was imagining this vigilante group in various ridiculous costumes.

"Death Eaters are what Voldemort followers are called. All that rot about conquering death and all," Falcon dismissed the question with his hand. "Generally they were, at least in my world, under trained idiots, but there were lot of them. It was the inner circle, Voldemort's most trusted servants and accomplishes, which I needed to worry about. They were the skilled ones, the truly deadly. Of course they were all dangerous and it doesn't really take that much to cast an Unforgivable, any idiot can do it."

"Really?" Harry asked with shock. After hearing about the Unforgivable curses, he had imagined them as something grand and really dangerous, and so complicated that only darkest of wizards could do them.

Falcon shook his head. "Killing, torturing and controlling people is _easy_. That's why it's so tempting to be a Dark Wizard for some. Unforgivables are easy power - and usually it's in the hands of idiots. Who cares about intelligence and elegance when they can kill and maim and be respected and feared for that? Quickest way to money and power too."

Harry shivered. He would've preferred if the curses had been difficult. Now he had a terrifying thought that Draco Malfoy could perform the three curses. "I don't think I like your world much," he said. "If it's full of people like Death Eaters."

"Yeah, well, I didn't like it much either," Falcon said, opening his eyes and looking out of the window.

They were quiet for a while before Harry looked up. "Do you know what happened to Ron and Hermione in your world?" he asked. "I know they weren't your friends like they are mine, but…"

The man turned his sharp eyes at him and then frowned. "They started rounding up the muggleborns in year nineteen-ninety-seven. It carried on from there. I think that Granger went to Azkaban like every other muggleborn."

"What?" Harry asked. "Rounding up muggleborn? But why? And what is Azkaban?"

"Azkaban is the Wizarding prison," Falcon explained. "And if you know anything about Voldemort, you should know that he didn't exactly approve those with muggle blood in them. The muggleborns in my world were accused of ridiculous things like stealing magic and infiltrating the Wizarding world and all that. Those who couldn't prove that they had Wizarding ancestry were imprisoned. Usually they died soon after - Azkaban is no health centre."

Harry stared at him wordlessly for a while, horrified and disgusted by the idea of Hermione going to prison just because she didn't have magical relatives. "W-what about Ron?"

"That particular branch of the Weasley family was extinguished in year nineteen-ninety-nine, I think. He might've died before that, though," the man said and grimaced at Harry's look of horror. "They are a family of so called blood traitors. As far as I know there have rarely been such muggle enthusiasts like Arthur Weasley. Also they fought back for many years and were quite the thorn at Voldemort's side. Of course they were killed off."

After that Harry didn't dare to ask the man anything for three nights straight and instead they either sat in silence or worked on Harry's essays. Falcon, though he was probably skilled with combat and such, had little knowledge with history and scoffed at the mere idea of Harry's potions essay. "I can brew exactly five potions from memory and none of them has anything to do with Shrinking Solutions."

Falcon did have some good stories from his world, back from the time before Voldemort took over. Sometimes he would tell Harry about his trainers at the ministry with some measure of, perhaps not fondness, but warm respect. Some of his training exercises had ended in humorous ways, some were just generally thrilling. He would tell Harry about how he had been dumped on deserted island once for a month to learn survival skills and how on other time he had had to travel across the country in two days without magical means while entire squadron of Aurors tried to catch him.

"They had very practical approach to teaching me. Only time I learned from books, I think, was when I was in Hogwarts," the man mused. "I preferred it though. Books have never really been my thing."

Other times Harry told Falcon about his own adventures, with some measure of shame as they were never as thrilling as the tales the man had. But the man seemed to disagree and enjoyed Harry's tale of the troll in the girl's bathroom immensely. He also enjoyed the tales of the enchanted car of the Weasleys and Harry's short and terrifying journeys to the Forbidden forest. Their encounters with Quirrell and Tom Riddle's diary were different too - and Falcon seemed to much prefer Harry's versions of them.

Many nights went by like this, and as they did Harry begun to slowly but steadily realise that for all his adventures, all his experiences, and all his skills, Falcon wasn't a happy man. He was content, but the look in his eyes every time Harry spoke of his friends was pained and jealous, making Harry realise that the man had never had a single friend, especially not the sort Harry had. Also it seemed at times that the man was telling things to Harry he had never told anyone before, trusting him beyond trusting anyone else. It was both humbling and somehow embarrassing for Harry, because sometimes it seemed that he had experienced more of life than Falcon had, and his experiences were close to nil as it was.

The Dursleys, thank heavens, never noticed Falcon. Unlike Hedwig who made some measure of noise when she was locked up, Falcon was a silent bird that preferred to sit still and either sleep or pretend to. Harry was also starting to think that the Dursleys were subconsciously getting used to the quiet chatter of Harry's room for they no longer even shifted in their sleep while Harry and Falcon had their lengthy nightly chats. And Harry too was getting used to them, not sure how he would've managed to boring days if he hadn't had the nightly talks to look forward to.

"Any time now," Harry mused one night while checking his watch. Half an hour until the thirty-first of July and he'd be thirteen. Looking up to the man, he found falcon looking at him with strange, benign amusement. "Um… what was the date in your world when you came here?" Harry asked embarrassedly. "I mean…"

"You mean is it my birthday in hour too?" Falcon looked up from his right arm, which he had been inspecting. It had been already few weeks since it had broken and it seemed that it was healing. Most of the burn in the least was healed. "It might be. Dates and times didn't really matter much to me back there."

"Alright," Harry nodded. The man didn't seem to care much about the birthday, but Harry did. "Did you ever celebrate your birthday at all?" he asked. "I never have," he added quickly as way of explaining why he wanted to know.

"When I was younger, yes. They were usually quiet celebrations with me and my trainers there, but I got some gifts and so forth," the man shrugged, eying Harry thoughtfully. "The Dursleys never organised a birth day party for you?" he then asked.

Harry snorted. "They've never given me real birthday presents either. Coat hangers and old socks and such mainly."

Falcon was quiet for a moment before starting to re-bandage his arm. "And still you look forward to your birthday?" he asked.

"Well… not because of them. I had been hoping that I'd at least get a letter from my friends…" Harry glanced at the window. Falcon gave him a slightly mystified look but said nothing to that.

Soon Harry went back to working with his History of magic essay, which he had been unsuccessfully attempting to start for a few nights now but had failed each time because they had started to talk. Falcon remained silent as he leafed through his book in search of facts to add to the essay. Harry worked more to distract himself than because of the essay, until the man interrupted him.

"Happy birthday, Harry," he simply said.

Harry glanced at his alarm clock and then grinned. "Happy birthday, Falcon," he said and the man gave him a lopsided grin in return.

For a birthday celebration, that was rather lame, but since Harry's eleventh birthday, no one had actually said those words to him and meant them, Harry turned back to his essay with a smile and continued working on it, now a bit more relaxed than before.

Hour later, Falcon stood up from the floor where he usually sat and walked to the partially open window. Harry looked up to see the man peering into the darkness. Then the man pulled the window open completely. "You're about to get some owls," the man said, glancing at him. "You might want to clear the bed, one of them looks like it needs to collapse onto something.

As Harry scuttled up from the bed, three owls swooped into the room, two of them supporting the third. As Harry hurriedly tended to Errol, who looked half dead, Falcon narrowed his eyes briefly at the parcels they had been carrying before relaxing again and returning to his spot on the floor.

After relieving Errol of his burden and carrying him to Hedwig's cage to let him take a sip of water, Harry returned to the bed and to the two other owls. "Hey, girl," Harry murmured to Hedwig, who had been gone for two days now. She too was carrying a parcel. The third owl came from Hogwarts apparently, and Harry suspected that the parcel was from Hagrid.

While Harry opened the letters and presents, finding that the Weasleys had been in holiday at Egypt and that Hermione had been out of country too, Falcon sat silently and watched. The man perked slightly at the sight of the pocket Sneakoscope Ron had sent Harry and congratulated Harry for receiving the broomstick servicing kit he got from Hermione. The last present made the man laugh quietly.

"Let me," he said as the Monster book of Monster leaped down from the bed and scurried under the table. He reached for the book, did something with his fingers to make it fall completely silent, and then he pulled it easily out. "Flourish and Blott's stacked these when I was thirteen - they broke out of the cage at one point and I was sent to subdue them. I later figured out that they calm down when you pet the spine," the man explained, gently scratching the leathery spine of the book and making it purr.

"I… see," Harry said with slight puzzlement while reaching for Hagrid's letter. "Hm. Hagrid says that it should be useful at school."

"Maybe it's a school book then," Falcon suggested. "Are you taking Care of Magical Creatures this year?"

"Yeah, I am," Harry nodded, giving the book a slightly worried look. "Though I didn't think that books would be one of the animals you need to take care of."

Falcon chuckled and Harry read through the letter he had gotten from Hogwarts. "Ah, damn," he muttered. "Permission form about visiting Hogsmeade. I need it signed…" he looked up. "The Dursleys will never sign it."

"I'm sure you'll figure out a way to persuade them," Falcon said, still petting the monster book idly. "And if everything else fails, threaten to spread nasty rumours about them or something."

"That sounds potentially fatal for me," Harry answered stifling a yawn. It was rather late - or early depending on the point of view. Pushing his glasses up and rubbing his eyes, Harry quickly hid his gifts under the bed before placing his three birthday cards to the table. Then he lay back down to the bed and begun hiding his school books under the bed as well. "I think I'll turn in," he then said.

"Good night," Falcon answered calmly, showing no interest on going to sleep himself. Harry fell asleep looking at the birthday cards and listening to the purr of the Monster book, knowing that the morning would find Falcon back in his animal form.

The following day, however, did not dawn as pleasant as Harry had hoped. While Harry helped him some breakfast, listening to the news of some escaped convict named Black, uncle Vernon gave him some very bad news. "Aunt Marge?" he asked him in disbelief. "S-she's not coming here, is she?"

She was, and Vernon threatened Harry quite severely about how to act around her. The man had also told her lies about where Harry went to school and apparently Harry would have to play along with the act or he would get in trouble.

Knowing that though Falcon was sleeping upstairs in his avian form, the man wouldn't let Vernon hurt him, Harry wasn't too worried about the threat. There was nothing Vernon could do against a wizard as highly trained as Falcon. So he decided to take the elder wizard's advice and when Vernon was just about to leave, he rounded up on the man with the permission form in his hand.

"I'm not taking _you_ with me to pick her up," Uncle Vernon snarled at him.

"Like I wanted to come," Harry muttered coldly. "That's not what I want. I have a proposition to make."

"_What_?"

"See, it will be hard work, pretending to Aunt Marge that I go to that St. Whatsits…"

"St. Brutus's Secure Centre of Incurably Criminal Boys," the man bellowed at him, looking slightly worried now and eying Harry with suspicion. "And you'll stick to that story, boy!"

"Well, it's loads to remember. Who knows, I might forget…" Harry said calmly, doing his best imitation of Falcon's sharp expression while Uncle Vernon's face turned purple. "I'll have to make it sound convincing, won't I? What if I accidentally let something slip…?"

"You'll get the stuffing knocked out of you, won't you?" his uncle roared at him, stepping closer with his fisted hands ready for some pummelling. Harry didn't even flinch for he had heard a flap of wings upstairs and knew that Falcon had not only woken but was in the upstairs hall. And though the idea of Uncle Vernon seeing the bird would've terrified him if it had been Hedwig, Falcon's presence was reassuring.

"Knocking the stuffing out of me won't make Aunt Marge forget what I could tell her," Harry said, and as the man stopped approaching Harry knew that he had hit the right nerve. He promptly presented the permission form to the man and held out ink pen. "Sign this, and I swear I'll remember where I'm supposed to go to school and I'll act like all normal and everything."

"And what is this?" Uncle Vernon narrowed his eyes.

"School stuff," Harry answered, now feeling Falcon's piercing gaze on him. "Sign it and I'll behave perfectly. Don't and I might saunter downstairs naked with a shoe on my head… or something."

The image that presented seemed to snap Vernon, who grabbed the pen, pushed Harry aside to press the papers against the wall so that he could sign it. "There," he snapped and handed the form back to Harry. "You'll behave perfectly and do absolutely no funny stuff. Because if you'll do, I'll do away with you for good."

Harry smiled. "Thank you uncle Vernon," he said almost pleasantly and headed to upstairs. He grinned at the bird sitting in the top stairs before crouching and offering his arm to him. Falcon's talons stung as the bird reached to sit on his arm, but Harry merely kept on grinning and headed to his room.

There he closed the permission slip between the pages of the Monster book of Monsters and scratched the book's back for an half an hour while telling it to keep a close eye on the form. Purring with delight, the book seemed to agree to do the task he gave it. Harry's grin widened. Now even if something went wrong, there was no way Vernon could get his hands onto the slip without getting his fingers bitten.

But, since Harry had to act all muggle, he figured that he'd better start now. So he started cleaning his room of anything remotely wizard like, hiding it all under the loose floorboard under his bed before turning to the owls. Errol seemed to have recovered from his nightly exhaustion for he and Hedwig were both sleeping in her cage. With a sigh Harry started to persuade them to leave.

He didn't tell the same to Falcon, however, as he couldn't fly and Harry much preferred to have him here especially since Marge was coming. They might not be able to talk during the nights anymore, but at least the man was there in case something… bad happened.

"You don't think you could pretend to be mounted animal?" Harry asked Falcon carefully. The bird gave him a dark look and moved the still bandaged wing slightly. "Yeah, I thought not. You can still hide out of sight in case someone comes in, right?" Harry questioned while pushing Hedwig's cage behind the bed. At that Falcon nodded, awkwardly gliding to sit in top of the care and indicating under the bed. Harry nodded. "Good. I'll see if I can steal some food for you now that Hedwig's not here to bring you dead animals…"

When Aunt Mage did come and Harry was forced to first act like a servant and then like a dinner entertainment, Harry only managed to keep his head by imaging Falcon clawing her eyes out and keeping Hogsmeade in mind. Marge gorged on how Harry was supposedly at St. Brutus's and Harry told tales of how they beat him with a cane and tuff like that to make her content. Thankfully eventually uncle Vernon started to direct the subject to other matters so that Harry's unnaturalness wouldn't have any chance to rise to the conversation.

To Harry's surprise, the first night Marge was there, Falcon turned into a human despite the risk of being seen by the unsavoury aunt. "If they'll hear, I'll be killed," Harry hissed, glancing towards the general direction of the guest room.

"Pfft, like they could," the man said, giving him a thoughtful look, before glancing at a wardrobe Harry had earlier relieved tension on by kicking it hard. "You would do well with some anger managing, though," he said.

"You try to manage your temper around that woman," Harry muttered.

"I don't need to," Falcon answered pleasantly. "But I could teach you a trick or two about controlling it. If you're anything like me, you'll need them when you're hormones start kicking in anyway."

Harry blinked. "You had an anger problem?" he then asked with surprise. To him Falcon seemed fairly calm, albeit a bit strange and maybe a little foolhardy.

"Oh yeah. Screamed my head off at my trainers not much after I turned fifteen. It wasn't exactly tolerated, so I was taught some ways of managing the temper," Falcon said, sitting to the floor and crossing his legs casually. "And it was either learn or else, so I learned." He patted the floor before him and confused Harry sat down as well.

"What are we doing?" Harry asked.

"We are going to meditate," Falcon said and answered Harry's disbelieving look with a rather grim grin. "And if you're like me, and I think you are, it will take your forever to learn this. But I think that just _trying_ will help here."

Thus Harry's lessons in meditation started and like Falcon had suspected, he didn't get the hang of it. The man was surprisingly knowing teacher - probably because he himself had had the same problems - and helped Harry achieve a state of semi-emptiness with his simple coaching.

The next day Harry found that concentrating onto his breathing and thinking hard about not thinking at all did help him not blow up to Marge's face even though she kept taunting him. Sadly, the meditation methods were all for naught when Marge turned from criticizing Harry into criticizing his parents.

"…if there is something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup," she was saying when Harry snapped and the wineglass the woman was holding exploded in her hand. As shards of glass flew in every direction, Harry bit his teeth tightly together and tried to breathe as slowly as he could.

"Marge, Marge, are you alright?" Aunt Petunia squealed.

"Not to worry," the large woman grunted, mopping her face with her napkin. "Must have squeezed it too hard. No need to fuss, Petunia, I have a very firm grip…"

Harry tried to look like he had nothing to do with the glass, but neither he, Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon were fooled by it. Harry skipped dessert and hurried out of the room as soon as he could, breathing deeply once he was outside. It had been a while since he had lost control and done accidental magic. He needed to calm down and not do any more magic - he didn't want to get expelled after all.

Harry concentrated more and more to the meditation methods Falcon had introduced to him over the following three days, trying to think of nothing and breathe calmly every time Marge was there and empty his mind completely when he was alone. During nights Falcon's presence helped and he calmly instructed Harry here and there about calming down and relaxing his posture and shoulders and so forth. The meditation came easier when the man was instructing him, but Harry never really managed to achieve the state of thinking absolutely nothing.

Then, the final day of her stay came and Harry thought that he was almost in the clear when Vernon did the unthinkable and offered the woman some brandy on top of all the wine she had had. Sensing the imminent danger Harry wanted to leave the room, but Aunt Petunia made him clean up after the dinner - and the fact that the kitchen and the dining room were connected offered him no sanctuary.

After spending a moment flattering Petunia, Vernon and Dudley, the woman, of course, rounded up on Harry again. "Now this one here," she said. "This one got a mean, runty look about him. You get that with dogs. Had a friend of mine drown one last year - ratty little thing it was, weak, underbred…"

Harry breathed slowly in and even slower out and tried to think of nothing, tried to think that Falcon was there instructing him to relax his shoulders again.

"It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out. Now I'm saying nothing against your family, Petunia," the woman continued. "But that sister of yours was a bad egg. They turn up in the best of families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here's the result right in front of us…"

Harry's breathing stuttered but he forced to keep it steady. "It's only the things that are inside you that make you angry. If you have them controlled, nothing that come from the outside can hurt you or disturb you," Falcon's voice said in the back of his head and Harry kept in his mind that his mother had been a wonderful witch and his father had been a brave wizard. And nothing Marge said could change that.

The talk turned to Harry's father and between Marge and Vernon he turned into a "no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger," and Harry had heard similar words a million times coming from Snape's mouth and that didn't help him. The anger and hate he felt for Marge was welling up inside him and he couldn't keep it in anymore.

"He was not," he said, shaking all over in attempt not to explode with the anger he had been quelling inside him all week.

"More brandy!" Vernon yelled, white faced and cared. He emptied the bottle into Aunt Marge's glass before turning at Harry. "You, boy. Go to bed. Go on -"

"No, Vernon," Marge who seemed delighted that Harry was speaking up, said, her eyes fixed upon the boy. "Go on, boy, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash, drunk, I expect… oh no need to look like that. They died in a car crash, and left you to be a burden to their decent, hardworking relatives," the woman bellowed. "You are an insolent, ungrateful little…"

Aunt Marge stopped speaking all of sudden and for a moment it looked as though the words had caught up in her throat. Harry sighed deeply with anger as his attempts to steadying his breathing failed. Then he glared at the woman with great amount of loathing, only after moment realising that she was swelling, expanding. Harry's anger gave away to cold wash of terror, as Aunt Marge's eyes bulged and her face expanded, as she stretched and inflated until she was like a grotesque human balloon.

"Oh… bugger…" Harry muttered as the woman started to rise from the chair and towards the ceiling. As Uncle Vernon jumped up with Aunt Petunia, Harry bolted out of the room, knowing instantly that this time he had really done it. He marched towards the cupboard under the stairs, which slammed open before he even reached it. Dragging the trunk out, Harry sprinted up the stars to get rest of his things.

"I screwed up," he said to Falcon who looked at him with confusion. "We're leaving."

The bird looked mildly worried as Harry fell to the floor and more or less clawed his things from underneath the loose floorboard under his bed. Then, seizing Hedwig's empty cage, Harry offered his arm to Falcon who took it. Harry headed back downstairs where Aunt Marge was now bouncing at the ceiling and uncle Vernon was livid.

"You come back here and put her right!" he bellowed at Harry, but the remnants of his anger and the fear that now seemed to be welling in his stomach had came over the boy. He kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand and pointed it at the man.

"She deserved it," Harry snarled, breathing very fast and unable to even remember the breathing techniques. He was dimly aware that Falcon was craning his neck to see what was going on in the dining room, but didn't particularly care at the moment. "She deserved what she got. You keep away from me," Harry said, pushing his things into the trunk and closing it again. "I'm going. I've had enough."

The next moment he was out in the street, marching away from number four with Falcon sitting on his shoulder and Hedwig's cage under his arm. The avian was giving him a strange look but right then Harry was still too high on mixture of anger and fear that he didn't even notice.


	3. Chapter 3

**III chapter**

Falcon didn't change his form until Harry had depleted his energy by marching across several streets and tired himself out. As the boy collapsed onto a low wall in Magnolia Crescent, panting from the effort of dragging his trunk, the bird jumped off from his shoulder, looked around, and shifted into a man. Harry didn't notice at first, sitting quite still with anger still surging in him along with the fear. But even when he noticed the man, Falcon didn't say anything, just stared at him expressionlessly with his good hand in the pocket of his dragon hide coat.

As the last of his anger started to fade away, Harry started to realise what he had just done and what the consequences could be. He had blown up aunt Marge! He had broken the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry. And with the last year's levitation charm and the warning he had gotten from it, he'd be expelled! And what more, he was stranded in the muggle world with no where to go or no idea what to do.

"Alright, calm down," Falcon finally said, apparently having determined that Harry was ready to speak. "Breath in," the man said in the voice he had used to teach Harry about meditation and automatically Harry breathed in, holding the breath inside him. "And breath out slowly," the man said and slowly Harry exhaled. "Again," Falcon said and repeated the order a few time under Harry had finally calmed down. "Good."

"I really screwed up, huh?" Harry asked despairingly "They're going to expel me from Hogwarts for this! And snap my wand! What am I going to do, Falcon? I have no where to go, I have no muggle money - all my money is in Gringotts and its all galleons and stuff -"

"Alright, Harry, stop. Calm down and breath in again slowly," Falcon said with a soft snort and sat beside him. Once Harry had repeated the breathing exercise twice, the man threw his good arm around the boy's shoulders and squeezed him compassionately. "If they were going to expel you, you would've already gotten a letter from the Ministry. They don't dally with things like these," he said. "It's been already twenty minutes since you blew up your aunt so I think it's safe to say that no letter is coming."

"I still blew her up," Harry muttered mournfully.

"And I think they've picked it up and will send people from the Accidental Magic Reversal office to deal with it," Falcon said calmly, rubbing his hand up and down Harry's forearm to try and make him relax. "They don't expel people for accidental magic, Harry. Accidental magic happens to everyone, you know, teenagers most of all. It might be different if you had actually picked out your wand and started casting spells. Worst case scenario you'll have to go to a hearing and explain yourself."

Harry slumped slightly. The sound of hearing didn't sound too good but it sounded better than being instantly expelled. "You really think so?"

"Yes, I do. And if you will be expelled, that isn't the end of it, as Hogwarts is only tiny part of the world," Falcon shrugged his shoulders. "There's more to it than that, more to the magical world too. As for what comes to being prepared, well… I'm carrying my entire fortune in my pockets. That includes just about everything you might need whilst on run, few spare wands too. And, of course all my gold and currency of some dozen countries." He frowned thoughtfully. "Though it might be that some of it it's not in use yet…"

"… but that's your stuff," the boy muttered, glancing at the man.

"And I'm with you," Falcon said, squeezing his shoulder. "If it comes down to it, I'll take care of you. But I doubt it will."

Harry sighed with relief and amazement. No one had ever promised to take care of him before. Look after him, stand by him maybe, but not take care of him. Especially not like this. And though the growing teenager in Harry didn't like it much, the boy he still was felt sudden burst of warmth inside him. "What will we do now?" he asked carefully.

"I say we go to Diagon Alley," the man said calmly. "Since Voldemort isn't currently active here, it should be safe… You can rent a room there. I can loan you some gold if you don't have any with you. There we should be able to find out if you have been expelled or not, and once we know that we'll figure out what to do next."

Harry took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Alright. I think I have some money in my trunk though, so you don't need to borrow any. How do we get there?" he asked, relieved that at least Falcon had a plan.

"I was thinking we could hail the Knight Bus, if it runs here," the man said, standing up. He took out his wand to do something but stopped in mid motion to stare at something behind Harry

"Hail the what?" Harry asked before turning around and following the man's gaze. Something had moved in the shadows between a garage fence behind them. Harry narrowed his eyes, trying to see into the black alleyway. "What is it?" he asked nervously.

Falcon didn't answer right away. Slowly he pointed his wand at the alley, and without a motion or word his wand tip lit up in bright blue glow. Harry gasped as he saw a huge outline of something big and black that had wide, gleaming eyes. In motion which would embarrass him later on, Harry automatically stepped closer to Falcon.

"It's a dog," Falcon said with mild surprise, tilting his head sharply to the side in manner he sometimes did in his avian form. "Or possibly a Grim," he added with slightly humorous tone. "Must be a stray dog. Do you see them here often?"

"Well, not really. This is pretty strict neighbourhood. If anyone would see a stray dog here, they'd probably call the police," Harry muttered, raking his eyes up and down the dark form as the dog continued to stare at them, unblinking. "It's huge," he commented. "If that thing attacks someone…"

"Should I kill it?" Falcon asked, making both Harry and the huge dog jerk with shock.

"No, don't!" Harry said hurriedly, taking hold of the man's wrist and trying to make him lower it. Falcon didn't budge, making Harry nervous. He had a feeling that the man was both capable of killing the dog and incapable of feeling sorry for doing it. "It hasn't done anything to us," the boy said quickly. "Let's just… leave it be. If it leaves us be."

"You're too merciful for your own good, but alright, I won't kill it," Falcon murmured, still keeping eyes - and wand - trained on the dog. "You hail the Knight Bus, Harry," he then said. "Just take out your wand and hold it up towards the street."

Swallowing, Harry released the man's wrist and took out his wand. Turning, he held the wand arm up and immediately a deafening bang echoed in the darkness. Sudden blinding light rushed towards them with shock Harry watched how a gigantic violently purple bus appeared out of nowhere. Staring it with amazement, Harry saw that it was a triple-decker and that gold lettering on the bus's windshield spelled _The Knight Bus_.

"Is this it?" Harry asked, but Falcon was gone, turned back into avian. Figuring that the bus was what the man had meant, Harry kneeled to pick the bird from the asphalt and lift him to his shoulder. Then he picked his trunk and Hedwig's cage just as a conductor in purple uniform leapt out of the bus.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard, just stick out your wand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go," the conductor, who looked not much older than Harry, spoke. "My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening."

The conductor looked down to him. "Well then, where to?" he asked, his eyes lingering on the bird on Harry's shoulder.

"London, Diagon Alley," Harry said, throwing a look towards the alley where the dog had been, only to see that it was gone. He turned his eyes back to the conductor. "How much is it?"

"Eleven Sickles," Stan said. "But for firteen you get 'ot chocolate and for fifteen you get 'ot-water bottle an' a toofbrush in the colour of your choice."

"Okay," Harry nodded quickly opening his trunk and rummaging through the trunk in search for his money bag. Finding it he didn't bother to count sickles but took a galleon and handed it to Stan. "Without features," Harry added when the other looked at him expectantly.

"Righto, six sickles back," Stan said, handing them to him. Then, after Harry had hidden his money again, Harry lifted Falcon to sit on the handle on the bus's door before he and Stan heaved his trunk inside. Picking the cage and the bird, Harry clambered inside as well.

He only managed to glance over the bus and see that there were no seats but instead the bus was filled with bedsteads that stood beside the curtained windows. The bus was lit by candles, and in their light Harry could see that there were other people in, sleeping in the beds.

"You can 'ave this one," Stan whispered, shoving Harry's trunk under the bed right behind the driver. Harry nodded and sat to the bed. "So, woss your name?" Stan asked.

Harry glanced at Falcon who made a sharp nod. "I'm Harry Potter," the boy answered, making the conductor gasp and almost tumble over. Before the conductor, or the driver who had swivelled around to look at him, could ask anything, Harry spoke again. "Does this bus really go _anywhere_?" he asked.

"Yep," Stan answered with bewildered look about his face. "Anywhere you like, 'long it's on land. Can't do nuffink underwater. You really 'Arry Potter? Can I see your scar?""

Harry sighed and flipped aside his bangs for a moment. "Shouldn't we be going?" he asked uncomfortably.

"Oh, yea', rigt'. Take 'er away, Ern," Stan said, collapsing to sit in armchair beside the driver. "This is our driver, by the way, Ernie Prang."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said as politely as he could while the bus lurched with tremendous bang, sending Harry flat on his bed, thrown backward by the speed of the bus. Falcon screeched from where he had fallen and flapped his wings few times to get back to the bed, while Harry straightened himself up. He looked out of the window with surprise. They were in completely different street now.

Stan seemed almost honoured by Harry's look of astonishment. "This is where we was before you flagged us down," he said. "Where are we, ern? Somewhere in Wales?"

"Ar," the driver said, glancing Harry over his shoulder and driving straight into a tree, which to Harry's shock and relief, jumped promptly aside and prevented them from crashing.

"How come the muggles don't head the bus?" Harry asked. "Or see it? Surely they should notice stuff like that?" he motioned towards the tree they had already passed.

"Them!" Stan snorted. "Don' listen properly, do they? Don' look properly either. Never notice nuffink, they don'."

"Best go wake up Madam Marsh, Stan," Ern said, again glancing at Harry who winced and squeezed his eyes shut as they almost ran into a streetlamp. It too jumped aside. "We'll be in Abergavenny in a minute."

As Stan passed Harry's bed and headed to the second level, Harry lanced at Falcon who was rearranging his feathers which his fall had taken out of place. "I think I would have preferred apparition," he said. The bird glanced up and Harry got the impression that he was amused.

Soon Stan came out with a slightly green witch wrapped in a travelling Cloak, and send her on her way once Ern had stopped the bus. Not much after that they were on their way again and Stan turned to his seat, eying Harry curiously. "So, 'choo doing out in the street this time o' the night, 'Arry?" he asked, shifting eagerly at the opportunity to address Harry by his first name.

"I missed my other bus," Harry lied quickly. "Muggle bus," he explained. "It left before I caught it."

"And you couldn' flag it down?"

"You can't flag muggle busses," Harry shrugged. "They run on schedule."

Ern scoffed at that as if he hadn't head anything as preposterous. Harry shrugged and turned to look out of the window, hoping that Stan wasn't interested in more talk. They were making their way down a narrow country lane now, trees jumping out of the bus's way.

After a moment Stan unfurled a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and started reading. Harry turned his attention back to the bus, as the inside was more interesting than the outside, and allowed his eyes to wander. While wondering if he would've ever found out about the bus if Falcon hadn't been there, Harry's eyes strayed to the _Prophet_ in Stan's hands. From the corner of his eye he could see that Falcon was staring at it as well. There was a picture in the front page which looked familiar.

"Wasn't that man on the muggle news last week?" he asked slowly.

Stan looked up and turned to look at the front page. "Sirius Black," he said, and Falcon perked visibly. "'Course 'e was on the muggle news, 'Arry," the young conductor said. "Where you been?"

"I live with muggles, and I don't get the Wizarding papers," Harry said, making a reaching motion. "Can I have a look at the front page?" he asked. Stan gave a sort of superior chuckle before removing the front page and handing it to Harry.

Falcon quickly scuttled to Harry's lap to read the article as he did. It was about prisoner, Sirius Black, who had escaped from Azkaban. Remembering that Falcon had told him about the place, Harry shivered slightly. Then he looked at the picture of the man with shadowed eyes. As dark and dead as the eyes were, they seemed to be the only part alive in his otherwise pallid, sunken face.

"Looks like a vampire," Harry commented, glancing down at Falcon. "You know him?"

While the bird nodded sharply, Stan thought he was the one Harry had addressed and nodded as well. "Well, o' course not personally, but everyone knows 'im. Scary-lookin' fing, inee?" he asked.

"He really murdered thirteen people with a single curse?" Harry asked, making a motion to hand the page back to Stan, only to be stopped by Falcon who stomped his talons to the paper to keep it still. Harry frowned and glanced back. "Uh, mind if I have this?" he asked indicting at the page which Falcon seemed to wish to keep.

"'Ave it," Stan nodded uncaringly and Harry folded the page before pushing it to his pocket. "And yea', Black did. In front of witnesses an' all. Broad day light. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?"

"Ar," Ern agreed darkly.

"Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo," Stan said, leaning closer. Harry almost opened his mouth but Falcon's talons bit into his thigh, silencing him. The conductor continued. "Very close to You-Know-'Oo…" he then continued to tell how Black had been Voldemort's second in command and how, unlike the other Voldemort's supporters who had given themselves in after Voldemort had died, he hadn't came quietly.

Falcon's talons were gripping Harry's thigh so tightly though his broken jeans that Harry was sure he was drawing blood. Trying to pry the claws from his flesh and listen to Stan at the same time, Harry wondered what had made Falcon, who usually remained calm, this bothered.

"Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of muggles an' Black too out 'is wand and 'e blasted 'alf of the street apart, an' a wizard got it, an' so did dozen muggles what got in the way. 'Orrible, eh? And you know what Black did then?" Stan asked in dramatic whisper.

"What?" Harry asked, finally managing to pry Falcon off only to have his fingers crushed in the bird's grip.

"Laughed. Jus' stood there an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, 'e went wiv 'em quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is 'ead off. 'Cos 'e's mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?"

"Falcon, you're crushing my fingers," Harry hissed to his companion who suddenly as if only now noticing that Harry was even there, relaxed his grip. The avian made an apologetic sound, but still seemed somehow bothered.

"If he weren't mad when he went to Azkaban, he will be now," Ern spoke for the first time, his voice slow and solemn. "I'd blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind you… after what he did…"

They talked about black for a moment longer, about how the whole thing had been covered up as a gas explosion before Ern said something about Azkaban's guards and Ern asked him to talk about something else because the guards apparently scared him. Harry, however, was more interested in Falcon's reaction to the whole thing than about what the other two were talking about. Falcon apparently knew something about Black and Harry was dying to hear.

Yet still somewhere the threat of being thrown out of Hogwarts lingered. Falcon had said that no one was punished for accidental magic, but he had still inflated a person. Was that dark magic? Maybe it would be considered as, what Mr. Weasley had called it, muggle baiting? Could he be thrown into Azkaban for what he had done?

As uneasy Falcon settled to the bed and Harry sat on it, trying to practice meditation - which was impossible considering the constant lurching and banging of the bus - the Knight Bus rolled on. One by one witches and wizards cleft the bus, all looking relieved to get out and some of them looking fairly sick. Eventually Harry was the only passenger left.

"Diagon Alley, woz it, 'Arry?" Stan asked and Harry nodded. "Righto. 'Old tight, then."

The but let out another deafening bang and next moment they were making way along Charing Cross Road. Harry sat up to watch of the street passed them by, and then almost fell over when Ern hit the breaks again. They stopped right beside Leaky Cauldron.

"Thanks," Harry said to Ernie, offering his arm to Falcon who jumped to sit on his shoulder. Then he took Hedwig' cage before helping Stan ease his trunk down to the pavement. "Well then," Harry said to the two, but his words were interrupted by nudge and screech from Falcon who indicated that he should look behind him.

"There you are, Harry," aid a voice just as Harry turned to see a portly little man in pinstriped cloak who looked cold and rather exhausted. Harry stiffened and Falcon bet his wings once to keep his balance. It was the Minister of Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge. "I have been waiting for you."

"Ah… I didn't know I was being expected," Harry said rather dully while Ernie and Stan stared at the two of them in shock.

"Yes, well, it was impossible to send you a note while you were on board the Knight Bus," the minister said rather testily. "Now, you and I need to step inside the Leaky Cauldron. Gather your trunk, and come on now."

Despite Falcon's reassuring presence, Harry was still nervous as he took his trunk and was then more or less steered into the pub by Fudge. Inside they were met by the landlord of the inn, Tom who was just as stooping and just as toothless as he had been the last time Harry had seen him.

"You've got him, minister!" Tom said with tone of relief in his voice. "Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?"

"Perhaps a pot of tea," Fudge said, still not letting for of Harry's shoulder. "And a private parlour if you will."

"Of course of course, right this way," Tom said, motioning them to follow. Somewhere behind them, Harry could hear the bang as the Knight Bus left. Tom the took them through a narrow passage into a small parlour. After starting a fire with a click of his fingers, the innkeeper bowed himself out of the room.

Falcon was keeping his eyes strictly on Fudge while the minister motioned Harry to sit by the fire. "Do sit down, Harry," the man said, looking at the bird on his shoulder. "Marvellous looking pet you have there. Is it hurt?"

"Yeah, he broke his wing this summer it's still healing," Harry said rather automatically as he sat down. His skin was prickling with nervousness and the warmth of the fire wasn't helping at all. He and Falcon watched as Fudge took off his pinstriped cloak and placed it aside. Underneath he wore a bottle green suit.

"I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry. The Minister of Magic," he introduced himself. Harry nodded, having already met the man once, though fudge of course didn't know about it as Harry had been under invisibility cloak at the time.

The innkeeper reappeared for a moment, bearing a tray of tea and crumpets. He placed the tray between Harry and Fudge on the table and then left the parlour once more.

"Well, Harry. You've had us all in right flap, I don't mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle's house like that! I'd started to think… but you're safe, and that's what matters." Fudge nodded to himself and buttered a crumpet before pushing the plate towards Harry. "Eat. You look dead on your feet."

Awkwardly Harry took a piece, but kept his eyes on Fudge. What fudge had to say wasn't what he feared, though. Instead of telling him that he was expelled or that he would need to attend to a hearing, the man said that they had dealt with his gamily and that Aunt Marge's memories had been fixed and… apparently that was that.

"I won't be punished?" Harry asked slowly while Falcon gave him the sort of _told you so_ look.

"Oh, my dear boy, we're not going to punish you for a little thing like that!" Fudge said, waving his crumpet impatiently. "Accidental magic, my boy, isn't a crime. Happens to everyone every now and then."

Even though Falcon had told him about that, Harry hadn't really trusted ministry all that much since they had taken Hagrid to Azkaban for no reason. However, with Falcon gripping his shoulder, he thought better not to ague. "Alright then," Harry muttered. "I'm glad."

"As you should be, as you should be. Now, I would very much prefer if you would stay here," Fudge said. "Tom already has a room for you, I suspect, in which you will be comfortable. Just, I'm sure you'll understand… I don't want you wandering off into Muggle London, alright? Keep to Diagon Alley. And you're to be back here before dark each night. Sure you'll understand."

"Okay…" Harry said slowly, a bit confused but more than willing to take the offer.. "I'll do that."

"Excellent," the minister nodded while taking his cloak again. "I'm afraid I must be off. Plenty to do, you know…"

"Have you had any luck with Black yet?" Harry asked, and Falcon's talon's bit into his shoulder.

"What?" Fudge asked, his fingers slipping from the silver fastenings of his cloak. "Oh, you've heard… well, no, not yet, but it's only a matter of time. The Azkaban guards have never failed… and they are angrier than I've ever seen them." The man shuddered. "Well then, I'll say good bye now. Please do take care, Harry."

"Yeah, sure," Harry nodded and watched the man leave with slightly mystified look about his face. "Is it just me or was that weird?" he asked from Falcon who made a sound of agreement. Shaking his head Harry stood up and grabbed the handle of his trunk again, dragging it out of the parlour and wondering why he had dragged it in at all.

Outside the bartender was waiting for him. "If you'll follow me, Mr. Potter," Tom said, noticing the cage and the trunk Harry was dragging. "Oh let me help with those," he offered and waved his hand. Immediately the trunk turned so light that it was floating up from the floor. "Right then, this way sir."

Harry followed him up a handsome wooden staircase to a door with number eleven on it in brass letters. The innkeeper unlocked the door and let Harry in, reversing the levitation charm once Harry had gotten the trunk inside. Harry didn't notice because he was too busy looking at the room, the comfortable looking bed, some oak furniture, ice warm fire and perched on top of the wardrobe… "Hedwig!"

"Very smart owl you got there," Tom chuckled as the bird flew to Harry's other shoulder and hoot her greetings at Falcon who made a soft sound of greeting in return. "Arrived about five minutes after you did. Well then" he said, stepping back. "If there is anything you need, Mr. Potter don't hesitate to ask."

With a bow the man left, closing the door behind him. The moment it snapped shut, Falcon jumped off Harry's shoulder and flied to the door to listen. Then, as Harry sank to sit on the edge of the bed, the Animagus turned into a human.

"Did you know?" he demanded to know. "About Sirius Black, did you know before?"

"No," Harry answered, taken a back a little. "I saw his face in the muggle news, but that's about it," he said and then watched as Falcon paced back and forth. "Who is he?"

"In my world he was celebrated war hero," the man said with a frown on his face. "Do you know what a Fidelius is?"

"Never heard of it. A war hero?" Harry asked with disbelief.

"One of the most well remembered ones at that," Falcon said and then kicked his dragon hide boots off before climbing to sit on the bed, his feet crossed as if to meditate. "Fidelius charm is a secrecy charm of sorts. You cast a Fidelius on a place, for example, and only one person will know about the place or be able to disclose this information to others. That is the Secret Keeper."

He frowned and continued. "No one but the Secret Keeper and the people who are in on the secret can see the place or find it - anyone not in-know can press their noses against the windows and never know it's even there. Only the Secret Keeper can tell the secret, even those they told can't tell anyone else," he explained hastily. "Voldemort himself can't break a charm like that, it's completely impenetrable. As long as the Secret Keeper is sound."

"O…kay…" Harry said very slowly. "This secrecy spell has something to do with Black, I presume?"

"In my world, Sirius Black was the best friend of my father," Falcon said, ignoring Harry's gasp of surprise. "And he was my godfather. My parents, when Voldemort started hunting them down, went into hiding. And it was the Fidelius charm they used - Sirius was their Secret Keeper."

"Did he gave the secret away?" Harry asked with horror.

"No!" Falcon jumped up again, now looking angry as he started to pace. "No, he never did. They captured him, sure, the Death Eaters did. Everyone in my world knows about it. They tortured him for twenty days and nights… But even under the worst methods of torture he never gave it away," there was almost proud tone in his voice and with bang Harry realised that Sirius Black was Falcon's _idol_. "So, Voldemort killed him. It happened a week before the Halloween, week before my parents died…"

Harry didn't miss how, unlike before when Falcon had referred to the both set of Potters as _their_ parents, they were now _his_ parents. But then again, if there was this sort of difference, the separation was warranted. Their pasts in that aspect weren't identical anymore. "Was the spell broken when he died?" Harry asked carefully.

The man shook his head "No, Fidelius charms never break. They spread and eventfully fade. When the Secret Keeper dies, everyone whom he let know about the secret will become Secret Keepers in return and each and every one of them can give the secret away to whomever they choose. It weakens the spell immensely too. When Sirius died, everyone who knew about Godric's Hollow became able to divulge the information as they wished and one of those people was a traitor who gave my parents to Voldemort…"

Falcon trailed away and then frowned even darker than before, looking more hawk-like than ever. "I don't understand," he muttered. "Sirius was celebrated in my world, he was… why is he a criminal here? Why was he in Azkaban?"

"Maybe because this Black is different from the Black you knew? Maybe because this Black is a murderer?" Harry asked slowly.

"I don't believe that. I won't," Falcon shook his head. "He went to school with my father, he couldn't have…"

"Maybe this one didn't. Or if he did, maybe he and dad weren't friends," Harry said with slightly stronger voice. "Or maybe he was, maybe my parents named him my godfather and he still went and killed all those people - no wait, maybe he gave away the secret willingly this time!"

Falcon glared at him and he glared back. Harry was the one who had to back down first - the man's gaze was unbearable, especially with the conflicting emotions welling in his eyes. "What if he isn't?" Falcon asked determinately. "What if something went wrong? What if… what if he was framed or something? Or maybe someone forced the secret out of him and then made him lose his memory about it, there are ways of doing that…"

Harry frowned before taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. He knew too little about his Black and even less about Falcon's Black. It was no use getting passionate about things he knew nothing off. "I'll believe it," he said slowly, "when I'll see the evidence."

Falcon frowned but said nothing.

"Now, I think I'm going to go to bed," Harry spoke determinately, telling with his voice that he wasn't up to continuing the discussion. "I've been up all night. I'm beat."

Falcon nodded at him curtly and continued to pace. Harry kicked off his sneakers and climbed to the bed fully his eyes still in his predator-like alternate self. He's eyes started to soon droop and letting them fall he just listened the other walk in circle while slowly starting to drift off.

"I won't believe it," Falcon murmured as he spreaded a blanket over Harry just as he fell under. "I can't."

x

I'm sorry. This is a horrible, horrible chapter. I used way way way too much referances and quotes from the book and in hingsight I'm just plain disgusted by myself. I wrote this ages ago and swore to rewrite it before posting it to make it more original, but of course being the lazyass I am, I never did. So instead of polished good chapter you get this mockery of... thing. I know a bad update is sometimes worse than no update at all, and i know I can't apologise enough for that. But it's such a good date, I wanted to upload _something_. I shall be more original in future, I swear. At least I will but better attempt to it.


	4. Chapter 4

**IV chapter**

Falcon wasn't there when Harry woke up. After weeks of being in the man's near constant presence and getting adjusted to waking up with the avian somewhere near by, Harry was immediately overcome with odd anxiousness. He ran his eyes over the room until he was absolutely certain that the bird wasn't anywhere near, and then he sighed heavily.

Had the man left? They had argued in the night before, and about matter that had seemed important to the man, and then Harry had just fallen asleep. Had it insulted Harry's other self so much that the man had taken off? Now that they were in Diagon Alley, Falcon could pretty much anywhere he wanted to. Though on other hand it wasn't like the mans injury had stopped him before - broken arm didn't stop no one from Apparating after all.

"Hedwig?" Harry called to see the owl sitting on top of her cage. She snapped awake, blinked and then gave Harry annoyed look for waking her up. "Hedwig, when did Falcon leave?" He asked. She stared at him for a moment and snapped her peak three times. "Did he say anything before he went?"

She ruffled her feathers in answer and then seemed to intend to fall back to sleep. Sighing Harry stood up from the bed and glanced around the room again. Falcon's boots were gone too. Running his hand through his hair, Harry turned to the window to see that it was firmly shut. The man hadn't left by wing.

"Well, he can't fly anyway, his arm is still I bandages," Harry muttered and then frowned. There was a piece of paper sitting on the table that hadn't been there before. Sitting up, Harry hurried to the table. The piece was really paper and not parchment and written to it - with graphite rather than ink - was a short message in familiar handwriting. His own.

"Gone to investigate. Be back around evening. Stick to Diagon Alley."

Harry huffed slightly at the last sentence but couldn't help but feel relieved. Though, investigate? Investigate what? Sirius Black? Well, it had seemed like matter close to the heart for Falcon… which was rather surprising. The few times Falcon had shown genuine emotions beyond annoyance and amusement was when he didn't bother hiding his jealousy for Harry. This, after all that, was rather surprising.

"I guess everyone needs idols," Harry muttered looking over the note one more time before pushing it to his pocket. His was Albus Dumbledore but according to Falcon, his alternate self had never _seen eye to eye_ with the Dumbledore of his world. Though, considering that the man had been raised by the ministry, it was no wonder. Judging by his last year, the ministry and Dumbledore didn't seem to always see eye to eye either.

Thinking of the ministry made Harry remember Fudge and the talk they had had in the night. He had wanted to talk about it with Falcon, but they had gotten too sidetracked with Sirius Black. Well, the man would be back later, they'd had chance to talk then.

Stretching his hands, Harry yawned and then glanced at his wrist watch. It was already way past noon, but considering that he had been up most of the night, it was no wonder. Stretching again, Harry decided to see where there was a bathroom. He was in serious need of bath. And after that he'd get some food…

After taking a bath and eating very late breakfast in the pub Harry headed to the Diagon Alley, alone for the first time. The first time he had been there, he had been in Hagrid's company and had only just learned that he was a wizard. The second time, last time, he had been there, the Weasleys had been there with him - though he had been alone for a while, during his short adventure to the Knockturn Alley. That, Harry decided, couldn't happen this time. He doubted neither Fudge nor Falcon would approve it.

While heading to Gringotts to get some money in order to do his school purchases, Harry wondered if that was where Falcon had gone. Knockturn Alley seemed like a place for darker rumours, and Falcon, being the way he was, probably fit the place perfectly. The idea left Harry feeling slightly cold as he remembered how Falcon had said he was perfectly capable of using dark curses.

Alternate self or not, sometimes Harry wondered just what sort of person he was associating with.

After filling his money bag in his vault, Harry pondered on what to do first with the money he had. Getting his school things was one choice, but never before he had had so much freedom in the alley, never before he had been able to go everywhere he wanted. It was a tempting opportunity, so instead of stocking potions ingredients, getting new writing supplies or buying his books, he spend the day just wandering up and down the alley, eying the shops and stepping in when he found something interesting.

And there were indeed many interesting shops in the place. As he wandered around, Harry realised that he had only visited a bare essentials of all the shops of Diagon Alley and even in those he hadn't spend the right amount of time for complete exploration. Now he found that aside from the few stores he visited, plenty of others lined both sides of the street. Pet stores, stores which sold magical instruments, magical game stores, two shops which specialised completely in astronomy and others that dealt with divination and such.

Harry peaked into the divination shop, as it was one of his electives, but soon hurried away from the heavy scent of incense which filled the shop's air. Hoping that his divination class wouldn't smell as bad, he continued checking out the shops. Not much after he ended up visiting a magical photograph studio where people could have their pictures taken and developed and from where wizards could buy magical cameras.

Harry, though he had bad experiences with cameras thanks to Lockhart and Creevey, decided to buy a magical version of Polaroid camera. He didn't have photographs of his friends or anyone else really and he found that he really wanted to get some. In few years he might want to look at them. Getting a picture of Falcon if the man would agree to it, would be nice too.

After the leaving photo store, Harry was intending to head to the Leaky Cauldron when he saw a familiar form sitting outside the Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream parlour with a ice cream cone in hand. Blinking slightly at the strange sight of Falcon of all people eating ice-cream, Harry headed over to the man. "What are you doing out in… uh… out like this?" he asked, indicating the Animagus's human form.

"Should I hide?" Falcon asked with mildly amused tone, lowering the ice cream cone for a moment. "Why?"

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it. Why indeed. Only Harry knew Falcon even existed, unless the man had contacted someone during his absence. The man looked so little like him that no one would be able to draw any connections between them based on that. To anyone in the Wizarding world, the man was just another wizard and that's all. "Ice cream?" Harry finally asked with slight tone of disbelief.

"I can enjoy the small pleasures of life too, you know," the man said, taking a bite of the ice cream which looked mixture of chocolate and mint. "And you have no idea how long it has been since I've had a proper ice cream. Years and years," he took another bite. "You want one?"

"No thanks, I'd rather have something real to eat," Harry answered, glancing up to the sky. It was getting darker and his stomach was telling him that it was quite clearly dinner time. "Are you coming with me?" he asked and then stopped. "Your hand…" he murmured, noticing that the man was holding the ice cream in his right hand which was no longer in crutch.

"Yeah, that. I bought a potion and got the bone fixed," the man nodded, flexing his wrist, before looking at Harry. "I think I'll join you a bit later. It might look a bit weird if I'd do it now, you know?"

Harry thought about it and nodded in agreement. If Tom the innkeeper was keeping an eye out on him for Fudge like he suspected, the man might think it mighty suspicious if Harry would retire to his room with a man like Falcon. "I'll leave the window open," Harry said.

"Alright. I'll be there in half an hour or so."

Once Harry had finished his dinner, and enjoyed listening to the chatter of the other customers for a while, he headed up to his room where Falcon in his avian form was already waiting. As Harry closed and locked the door, the man changed his form before settling into armchair by the fire. "You wouldn't believe how many looks I got," the man said, while shifting out of his coat. "Apparently around here people don't wear as much dragon hide as I do."

Harry raked his eyes up and down along the man's form. Falcon had even a dragon hide vest underneath the coat. His right arm was still in bandages so apparently the potion that had fixed the bone had done nothing to the burn. In his left arm he had a leather holster for his wand. "Why do you?" he asked, walking to the other chair and sitting down to it. "Wouldn't robes be, I don't know, less noticeable? Not to mention cheaper. I hear dragon hide is expensive."

"Oh yeah, it is," the man nodded, settling his coat over the arm of the chair. "But there's reason for it. Dragon hide is endurable and offers some measure of protection from magic. Won't block strongest curses but might save your hind from some cuts and bruises," he said, and hit his knuckles against the vest he was wearing. "Sometimes good clothes can save your life."

"I guess you would know," Harry answered while taking out the magical camera he had bought. "Where did you go today?" he then asked while examining his purchase.

"Here and there, visited a few bars and pubs and such where information usually travels easily," the man answered, blinking when Harry aimed the camera at him and then frowning when the boy took a picture. "Don't do that," he said.

Harry didn't answer, only waited for the picture to develop and then snatched it from the camera before Falcon could take it. The picture version of the man was frowning irritably at him, and as Harry watched the picture Falcon rolled his eyes and stalked out of the picture. "You don't photograph well," Harry grinned.

"I know," Falcon agreed dully before snatching the camera from Harry's hands and returning the favour. Grinning at the picture, he showed it to Harry. "Neither do you," the man said as Harry found that he had half outraged, half bemused expression on his face in the photograph. Falcon's grin widened as picture Harry folded his arms and looked away sulkily. "What made you buy a camera anyway?"

"I don't have any pictures of my friends. I thought I might as well get a few," Harry said, taking the camera back and making a mental note that Falcon kept the picture he had taken. "So, did you find out anything?"

"Nothing conclusive. Just aimless rumours and baseless gossip. I don't think anyone knows much about Sirius's supposed activities as dark wizard before the whole mass murder event," the man answered, shaking his head. "As far as I can tell, that was his only activity as Voldemort's supposed second hand man."

Harry frowned and set the camera aside. "You really think he didn't do it? Even though there were witnesses and all?" he raised his eyebrows before remembering the Prophet page he had gotten from Stan and taking it out of his pocket. Though the page was a bit crumbled, the moving picture didn't seem to have suffered at all. Black was just as ghastly and vampire looking as he had been before. "He looks like he could've done it."

"Everyone will look like that after twelve years in Azkaban," Falcon shook his head. "The place, or it's guards', drive people mad. Most prisoners there won't last for long, they stop eating or kill themselves one way or another. The ones who last longest are the ones who have a real reason to live and keep going, reason which is stronger than anything the Dementors can do to them."

"The what?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Dementors, the guard's of Azkaban," the man answered. "They are dark creatures that feed on human emotions of pain and misery and which suck all happiness out of the air around them. With one near you, you will only feel depression and dread - like you'd never be happy again, like the sun will never shine again… And they eat souls."

"They _what_?"

"They eat souls. They're the only creatures in this world with the ability to extract a person's soul from their body. If a Dementor bows down to kiss you, you're worse off than dead," Falcon nodded darkly. "During the first war they were Voldemort's allies and when the Ministry was taken over in my world… well, lets say that their populations expanded and entire muggle towns were sacrificed to feed them."

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again. Then he opened it again. "_Really_?"

"Yeah, well… never mind that. If might never happen here - and if you're lucky, you will never meet a Dementor in your life," the man shook his head. "The point is that the Dementors could leave even the kindest man on earth looking like that. Especially after so long time."

The boy turned his attention back to the paper. When he looked beyond the scary image Sirius Black presented, the man looked rather… unhealthy. Starved. Quickly Harry placed the paper to the tea table between them before he would actually start feeling sorry for the man. "I still don't think I believe that he could be innocent," he said. "They wouldn't but innocent man in prison."

"In my world they put entire half of the magical society in prison," Falcon snorted. "Sometimes it's not about whether you're guilty or innocent. Sometimes it's about if you're in someone else's way. Or if you're the only one they can blame you for something. By now you should know better than to believe that things are exactly what they look they are."

"Yeah, yeah, don't judge a book by the cover," Harry rolled his eyes, but had to admit that the man was right. In first year he had thought that it was Snape who was after his life and the Philosopher's Stone when it had been Quirrell. In his second year, the last year, he had thought that Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin when it had been in fact Ginny who had been behind the attacks, albeit unwittingly.

"This is different though. What if you're wrong?" Harry asked with a frown. "What if Black _is_ a mass murderer?"

"Then you're at least sure of it because you yourself found out. Not because everyone else told you that it was so," Falcon answered calmly.

"You don't trust anyone, do you?" Harry questioned rather flatly.

"Not when I can help it, no," the man agreed. "And I especially don't trust the ministry."

"It's not run by Voldemort here."

"It's run but Fudge and in my world Fudge bowed Voldemort right in."

Harry was quiet for a moment, shifting in his seat. "Speaking of him," he then started slowly. "Why do you think Fudge himself was here when we came in the Knight Bus? I rather doubt that the minister himself deals with runaway students and cases of accidental magic, you know."

"It's obvious why he was here. Think about it a little. There is Sirius, whom everyone believes to be a mass murderer and Voldemort's Second. Then there is you, the Boy-Who-Lived who conquered Voldemort. Why do you think people think Black escaped?" Falcon raised his eyebrows and Harry swallowed. "Ministry obviously supports that conclusion, what with telling you to stay here, in Diagon Alley, where you're in the presence of countless witches and wizards."

"You told me to stay here too," Harry pointed out.

The man gave him a slightly amused look. "Yes, I did. I don't want you to give Fudge any reason to make Aurors shadow you. He's a fool and incompetent one at that, but he has to have some decent workers in the ministry and I'm sure that someone will point out that if you start wandering around on your own, someone should watch your back."

"He'd put Aurors after me?"

"As bodyguards. That would make things difficult for me as I wouldn't be able to do anything with a trained Auror around," Falcon said, stretching his hands.

Harry frowned and then looked up. "Does the ministry have invisibility cloaks?" he then asked slowly.

"I imagine they do, but trust me, no one is following you invisible. I would've noticed."

The younger wizard's cheek twitched with mild annoyance. "How could to tell if they're invisible?" he asked irritably. Falcon's confidence was usually somewhat awe inspiring, but it did get annoying at times.

"Invisibility doesn't make you silent and if they would be using silencing spells, that doesn't make them scentless. And even invisible people have foot steps and foot prints, they breath air and they have presence. Their heartbeat, and with weather being as it is…" the man nodded towards the window. The entire day had been quite warm. "I'd imagine they'd sweat a lot. Invisibility cloaks are usually rather hot."

"Not mine," Harry said immediately. His was light and wouldn't protect the wearer even slightest breeze.

"Different thing all together. The likes of your cloak - and mine - are special. Most invisibility cloaks however have been made of demiguise hair, which is rather heavy and thick."

The younger wizard blinked. He hadn't known that. "There are different sort of invisibility cloaks?" he asked.

"Yes, some are just charmed, some are made from invisible materials and some, and so forth. The enchanted ones are cheapest but they become pretty much useless in couple of years. Aurors usually use demiguise hair clocks as they are more durable," Falcon explained.

"Mine isn't heavy so does that mean that it's one of those cheap types?" Harry asked in dismay.

"Oh no, nothing like that. Our cloaks are special," Falcon said. "I expect yours will still work perfectly when your great grandchildren are using it. You should also know that our cloaks are somewhat spell resistant. They can't be summoned for one. That little feature's saved my life handful of times, might prove to be handy to you too."

"Oh… okay. That's good to know," Harry muttered, making a mental note not to lose his cloak. Not that he would've treated it lightly anyway, seeing that it was a family heirloom of sorts. "So," he said then. "No one is following me around in invisibility cloak?"

Falcon sighed and took out his wand. "I can't believe I'm actually using a spell for this," he muttered under his breath while making a flick with his wand. Then he waited for a moment. "No, there's only you and me here, a warlock in the next room, a hag two rooms away," he motioned at the right side and then at the left. "And the other customers are downstairs. No, wait, there's a cleaning lady working in room across the hall."

Harry blinked. "What was that?" he asked.

"_Homenum Revelio. _It reveals human presence to the caster. You might want to learn it, it's rather useful," Falcon answered.

"But you didn't say the spell," Harry pointed out.

"Nonverbal spell casting. You'll start learning it your sixth year, I think," the man said. "Though given who you are, you might want to take a moment to study it anyway. It might give you a chance in case someone sees it fitting to attack you. It gives an edge when your opponent doesn't know what spell you are using, after all."

Harry blinked and then nodded, not quite sure when he would need something like that… before the thought of Voldemort came to his mind. "Yeah, I'll… I'll check it out," he murmured. So far he hadn't actually needed spells to get better of Voldemort, but he couldn't keep on surviving on luck alone. Especially not if Falcon's gloomy past was Harry's horrible future.

"By the way…" Harry started, thinking back to something that had came to his mind during his shopping. "Can I… tell anyone about you?" he asked. Normally he wouldn't have asked permission to tell something to Hermione and Ron, he told them just about everything, but this was different. Falcon was different. "I want to tell Ron and Hermione. Can I?"

The man frowned, obviously wanting to say no right away, but like Harry he was being held back by their unique situation. "Can they keep it to themselves?" he only asked.

"They can keep secrets," the younger wizard nodded.

"You're absolutely sure?"

"Yes," Harry said, this time with stronger voice.

"Then yes, you can tell them," Falcon said though he clearly wanted to tell him no "Maybe one of them even can help us with the Unbreakable Vow."

Harry nodded again, trying not to show that he had forgotten all about the mans promise to make the vow to him. "Hermione, probably. I don't think there is a spell she can't do. And if there is, she'll learn how to do it," he said. "Thank you for trusting my friends."

The man snorted. "I don't. I trust myself. You are me. And you trust them," he said. "Let's hope I won't regret it," he added under his breath before glancing at him. "Are you going to stay here for the rest of the day?"

"Yeah, I think so," Harry said, glancing at the window. It was already dark outside. "I will. It's getting late."

"Okay. I think I'll go out again for a while," Falcon said, standing up. "I'll be back before midnight."

Harry nodded, knowing that there was neither no way he could stop the man from going, nor was there was any reason. "Take care," he just said as Falcon opened the window. Then he watched with mixture of amusement and awe as the man crouched onto the window sill and jumped out, soon soaring pass the window in his avian form before heading away.

"I've got to get a book or two about Animagi," Harry muttered.

The first week in Diagon Alley continued much like that. Harry prowled the Diagon Alley, eventually visiting all the shops there and doing his school shopping. He got himself some new robes, stocked new potions ingredients and got his books for the following year. He also taught the poor stressed managed of Flourish and Blotts how to calm the Monster book of Monsters, after which the man had been so grateful that Harry had gotten his Unfogging the Future free of charge.

Falcon came and went as he pleased and Harry suspected that mostly he spend time in the Knockturn alley. He was there every morning, stopped by around dinner time and usually returned just as Harry was about to get ready for bed, but other than that he was always out. The chats they had during the times the man was there indicated that he was doing more than investigating about Black - the man had said something about restocking his supplies.

"Don't you think you're being a bit too paranoid?" Harry asked when he realised what the man meant by restocking. Apparently Falcon had things like potions, potion ingredients, food supplies and such hidden away somewhere about his person in magically expanded containers that where bigger than they looked. "We're not in war in this world, you're not on run here."

"Hm-hmm," the man agreed easily. "But I'm too adjusted to being on the run to kick the habit. I won't feel quite right unless I have enough supplies to last me a month or two."

Harry eyed him thoughtfully. "Exactly how long were you on the run?" he asked. "And were you really living all by yourself all that time?"

"Nine years I think, almost ten," Falcon answered. "And I wasn't always alone. Sometimes I ran into others who were on the run too. There was lot of us, actually. Not only British wizards, but when Voldemort started extending his powers beyond UK, lot of foreigners decided pack their bags and head out. Some even formed groups and travelled like nomads, and sometimes it was beneficial to do so… but yeah, I was mostly alone."

"What was it like? I mean in way of day to day. What was it like to _live_ like that?" the boy questioned curiously, trying to picture it.

Falcon kicked off his boots and reaches his feet towards the fire even though the evening wasn't that cold. "Not as bad as it sounds. Sometimes I was whole lot more comfortable on run than I ever was at the ministry," he said. "I had a magical tent - two in fact - in which I lived. Magical tents are bigger on the inside than they are on the outside - mine are about the size of the house of your guardians. So it was comfortable…"

Harry blinked and then nodded. Of course the man wouldn't have lived under the bare sky, he realised. Or entirely on the avian form. Living only as an animal, what sort of life that would be?

"I moved around at least once a week. Well, I stayed in some of the nicer places a bit longer, but with as many people after me as I had, I couldn't dare to stay still," Falcon continued. "Usually I tried to move from country to country - I favoured Africa a lot. Good place to hide and stock potions ingredients."

For a moment the man had actually reminiscing expression on his face before he shrugged. "Anyway, every time I moved, I had to put up whole punch of security charms in order to not be found. I got rather good with those eventually. A few times Death Eaters walked right past my tent and never saw it."

Harry couldn't help but snort at the idea of Falcon sitting in a magical tent in some savannah, sipping tea and watching how dark wizards prowled around his tent in vain attempt to find him.

"Yeah," the man agreed and smiled a little. "Sometimes it was amusing. Mostly it was rather peaceful, living on the run. I got good at hiding within few years and usually months and months could go by before anyone found me."

"You must have seen a lot of places," Harry said softly.

"Hm," Falcon nodded. "And some of those places I miss. I rather regret that I didn't have a camera like that one," he mused, throwing a look at Harry's magical camera which by now had captured some dozen pictures of him in both of his forms, as well as Harry himself and Hedwig who seemed to enjoy posing. The man sighed. "I could've taken many pretty pictures."

Harry nodded, feeling a bit jealous. He had never been outside Britain and the only time he had seen the sea was when he had been just barely eleven and uncle Vernon had driven them into the faraway island in order to hide from the Hogwarts letters. "I would like to travel too, one day," he said. "See some of the places you saw."

"Hopefully not under the same circumstances," Falcon said before smiling in way he very rarely did - the way that made him look a bit less like a predator and more like James Potter. "Maybe, if we're both still alive and there's peace, I'll take you to a world tour after you've finished in Hogwarts. They were traditional at one point, young wizards fresh from Hogwarts taking a world tour to see the other Wizarding nations."

The younger wizard grimaced. "If we're both still alive?" he asked incredulously. "Do you have talk so gloomily?"

"Can't help it," Falcon answered with slight grin. "Force of habit." He shifted his feet closer to the warmth of the fire. "So, are you still drooling after that broomstick?" he asked.

Harry flushed red, thinking back to the Firebolt which was on display in Quality Quidditch Supplies. Though he had decided not to make himself poor by buying the broom, he couldn't help the longing he felt for it. He had even taken a picture of it with his camera. Falcon had laughed his head off at the sight of it. "I'm not drooling after it! It's just… a very nice broom…"

"Ah, Firebolt…" the man muttered amusedly. "You should've seen the successors. Firebolt Mark Three was a thing of beauty - and a pain in the ass. I almost got caught once because one of the Death Eaters had a Mark Three - thankfully the guy was too much of a chicken to dive after me…"

"Have you ever used a broomstick? Or played Quidditch?" the younger wizard asked as the other trailed away.

"Used a broom? Yes, a few times, but not so much these days. I like flying on wings much better - greater mobility. And no, I've never got the chance to play. I've seen some great matches though," Falcon said, looking at him. "You play then, I suppose?"

"I've been the Gryffindor Seeker since my first year," Harry nodded.

"I see," the man murmured with slight smile and the usual jealous gleam he got when Harry spoke of the things he had or enjoyed. Simple things the man had never experienced. "I'll be looking forward to seeing you play in Hogwarts then."

Hogwarts. It was unspoken agreement between them that Falcon would come with him. Harry wasn't entirely sure why, though. Falcon was jealous of his life and wanted to see more of it probably, but Harry was rather certain that he wanted the man to come more than the man did. He didn't know why, though. Part of it was keeping an eye on the man and another… was perhaps that Falcon was starting to feel like… like a relative. Like overconfident, rather strange older brother or uncle he had never had.

As the days went by, Harry saw more and more of his fellow Hogwarts students as they came around to get their school supplies. Though it was nice to talk with them - he even helped Neville, who had lost his book list, figure out what books to get by using his own as the base - Harry was looking forward to the end of the holidays. He would see Hermione and Ron on the train on September the first and he couldn't wait to introduce his friends to Falcon and vice versa. It was going to be a meeting to remember.

Harry was at the Leaky Cauldron in the last day of August, reading a book about Animagi and figuring out exactly why Falcon had said that some considered the ability demeaning, when he heard a knock in the door. With a sigh, he stood up from the bed which was covered with books about Animagi, non-verbal spell-casting, security spells, useful spells for campers and so forth and so forth - all bought in order for Harry to try and understand Falcon a bit better. The man himself was basking in the sunlight on the windowsill in his Animagus form, either sleeping or pretending to.

Harry opened the door but unlike he expected, it wasn't Tom the landlord who was behind it. "Harry!" Hermione and Ron said together, grinning widely at him. "Hi! Do you mind if we come in?"

Harry laughed. "Of course not. I didn't remember you were going to come to Diagon Alley… how did you know I was here?" he asked, stepping back from the door to let the two in.

"Through dad, he found out at ministry," Ron answered simply as he stepped inside. "The rest have gone to do their shopping, we decided to see if you were here and if you'd like to come with us. Were staying in the Leaky for the night, Hermione too, so you can come with us to the station tomorrow…" he trailed away and his eyed widened as he saw Harry's bed. "No! No mate, don't tell me you're… you're turning into a … a _bookworm_!"

"Ron!" Hermione snapped at him. "There is nothing wrong with studying!"

Harry snorted. "I just bought some books," he said, quickly pushing the books to one end of the bed to clear them some sitting space, marking the page he had been at with the Animagus book and placing it aside as well. Then he sat down. "You should've let me know you were coming, I would've been downstairs waiting."

"Never mind that," Hermione said, casting a curious look at a book about magical oaths Harry had bought before looking at him seriously. "Did you really blow up your aunt, Harry?"

"Uh…" Harry grimaced. He had forgotten all about Aunt Marge. "Well… I didn't really mean to," he said slowly, grinning sheepishly as Ron snorted with laughter. "I just… lost control."

"It's not funny, Ron, " Hermione said sharply. "Honestly, I'm amazed Harry wasn't expelled."

"Forget expelled, I thought I was going to be arrested," Harry muttered, glancing at his watch. "But never mind that. Are you in hurry to go to shopping?" he asked, looking at Ron. "I want to talk to you two about something privately and if rest of your family have gone to Diagon already, this looks like a perfect chance."

The other two glanced at each other with surprise and then nodded. "I think we can spare a moment. It's still early and we only need to buy books and potions ingredients," Hermione said calmly before thinking about it. "Oh, and I was intending to get little something for myself. Mum and dad gave me some extra money to get myself a birthday present."

"Only? Hah! You should've seen her book list," Ron muttered, pointing at Hermione. "It's mile long!"

Harry grinned and then glanced at Falcon who had been listening to them intently. As he did, the other two noticed the bird as well. "Blimey, Harry, is that a hawk?" Ron asked with amazement. "Since when did you have a hawk? And don't you already have good bird to do your mail - and there she is. Hey Hedwig!" the owl hooted in answer to the greeting.

"It's not a hawk, Ron. It's a falcon," Hermione said, looking at him with confusion. "How _can_ you mix the two? They don't look even remotely like each other."

"Well, it's not like I'm a bird maniac or anything. Besides, wizards don't generally use birds like them," Ron motioned at Falcon who was listening with his head slightly tilted. "Owl's are better at finding people, you see. Falcons and hawks and whatnot are faster, but they're bit stupid."

Harry winced. "First, he's not mine, and second… please don't call him stupid," he said in slightly strained voice and hoped that Falcon wasn't insulted. "Now please promise me that you will not tell anyone about what I'm about to, uh, tell you. Promise me."

The other two looked surprised but naturally they nodded seriously. "I promise," they said in unison.

Harry nodded with satisfaction and then looked at the bird again. "Falcon," he said, motioning the Animagus to join them. "Could you…?"

The avian let out a sound that was almost like bird version of snorting and then jumped down from the windowsill. He would've glided all the way down to the bed, if he hadn't changed forms in mid-flight and suddenly stood before them without wings. He looked very formidable indeed as he looked down on them, slowly folding his arms and obviously enjoying the looks of shock and fright in Hermione's and Ron's face.

"Guys, this is Falcon," Harry said to Hermione and Ron as the two continued to gape at the man. "I met him this summer when I was still at Privet Drive. He's… um… not from around here."

"Quaintly put," the man muttered, bowing from the waist to look at Hermione and Ron on their level. "So, you're the famous best friends, huh? It's nice to meet you."

"You're… you're an Animagus!" Hermione spluttered out once she found her tongue. "Oh, this is incredible, you're only the second Animagus I've ever met, and professor McGonagall wasn't quite forthcoming about it… what is it like, to turn into animal? How did you get to be a bird instead of some other creature? How -"

"Hermione, I think you're the only one who would start asking that sort of questions from a complete stranger," Ron said with a shake of his head. "The thing you ought to be asking is; who is he and why is he here?" he directed the last words at Harry, but thankfully the man in question didn't seem bothered about being excluded like that.

"Well, uh…" Harry swallowed, glancing at Falcon who shrugged his shoulders uncaringly while leaning to the bed post. Then the younger of the two Boys-Who-Lived started to explain how he had met Falcon and who he was. He held his hand up when wide eyed Hermione tried to interrupt, and continued up until the end in one go. It was easier to explain it without interruptions - and even then it sounded a bit insane. It certainly turned Hermione from curious into suspicious.

"Harry, surely you do not believe - just look at him, he looks nothing like you," Hermione said, looking at Falcon worriedly and then frowning as the man tugged his bandana off to show his forehead - and scar underneath it. The man looked mildly amused but Hermione continued on. "Well, everyone knows what your scar looks like," she said. "They could easily fake it…"

"How about birth marks?" Falcon asked, taking off his coat. "Your arm, Harry," he said, and obediently Harry rolled up his sleeve and showed his right arm to Ron and Hermione while Falcon did the same. Aside from the scars - Falcon had a big one in his inner arm and several scrapes and fresh burn marks all over the arm otherwise - the markings on their arms were similar. They both had two small birthmarks near the elbow, another one closer to the wrist and the arrangement of blood veins on Falcon inner wrist was identical to Harry's.

"Well that… oh…" Hermione stuttered. "How?" she then asked in shock. "What could… how… I don't understand. I've never read about anything like this!"

"This is wicked," Ron said with a grin, looking back and forth between Falcon and Harry. "Are you going to look like him when you're older? Awesome. Though what in Merlin's name happened to your nose?"

"It broke and was badly healed," Falcon answered with slight frown, touching the crooked bridge of his nose before looking at Hermione. "Not all can be found in books, little missy," he said. "It was probably a complete freak accident. Might never happen again."

"Might never happen… but, don't you want to know how you got here?" she asked, wide eyed and confused. "Don't you want to figure out a way to go back?"

It was Harry who answered as Falcon's face closed up. "He doesn't want to go back to his world," he said. "It, uh… well, I wouldn't either…" he trailed away and glanced at the man to ask if he could tell the two others about what sort of world Falcon came from. The man shrugged again. "His world is being controlled by Voldemort. Well, magical world anyway," he said, ignoring the other's gasps. "Falcon's been a fugitive in his world almost ten years. He doesn't have anything to go back to."

"So he's staying here. Wicked," Ron grinned, accepting it immediately.

"B-but!" Hermione insisted. "Really, nothing to go back to? What about us, what about Dumbledore? Surely he would never let the Wizarding world get taken over just like that…"

"Dumbledore was killed back when I was eighteen, little missy. He wasn't there to stop anything. And I never knew you in my world," Falcon answered. "And for that matter, I think you are both dead there."

"We've had very different lives," Harry nodded, giving the other two apologetic looks as they digested the information that in some world they were dead. "So, Falcon has no place to go. Well, he could get one, I bet… but he wants to stay with me, so… he's coming to Hogwarts with us. As a bird, that is."

"But shouldn't we let someone know, shouldn't this sort of thing be reported to the Ministry or something?" Hermione asked, and completely missed how Falcon's face suddenly morphed into hawk-like mask. "This like no magic I've heard of, maybe they would like to study it or…"

"No," Harry said right away. "I won't tell anyone and you promised you wouldn't either."

"But, shouldn't you tell Dumbledore at least?" Hermione asked.

Falcon frowned so Harry shook his head. "No," he said. "No one but we will know." He eyed the other two until even Hermione nodded in reluctant agreement. "Thank you. Now Hermione, do you know how to perform the Unbreakable Vow?"

"Huh?" she asked with bewildered look. "Unbreakable… I've read about them but… why would you want to know?"

"I promised one to Harry," Falcon answered. "We need a Binder. Harry figure you'd know how to do it."

Hermione flushed. "Well, uh… I know the theory but… I don't think I could just jump up and do it," she said embarrassedly. "Could I research a bit first?"

Harry handed her the book about magical oaths and vows. "It's in this," he said. "I can borrow it to you."

Hermione nodded, quickly leafing through the book to see the spell.

"Unbreakable Vow, Harry? Really?" Ron asked. "They're really serious business, you know. If you break one, you die. Fred and George tried to make me swear one when I was five but dad stopped them. I've never seen him as mad as he was then."

"I know," Harry nodded, having read the chapter about the vow. He still wanted to do it - not for himself but for Falcon. He had not long ago realised that the man wanted to do it actually more than he did for some reason. He didn't ask why but for the man's benefit, he was going to do it. Getting a solid proof that Falcon was no threat to him or to him friends was good thing too, though.

"I don't think I can do it right away. Do you mind until we get into Hogwarts? I don't have the time to study it before, given that there's only one day of the holiday's left and we have shopping to do," Hermione said. "And we can't perform magic outside school," she added as an after thought.

Harry glanced at Falcon who nodded. "Yeah, that's alright," the black haired boy answered while the man near by turned and shifted into his avian form. When the bird flew out of the window, he figured that the discussion was over for now. "We might as well get on with the shopping," he said. "I've already gotten all my school stuff though."

"Where did he go?" Hermione asked, looking at the open window.

"I don't know. The past week he has come and gone as he's pleased. I think he's investigating about the differences between our worlds - among other things."

Hermione frowned and then turned to look at him seriously. "Do you really think that he is who he says he is? And that it's alright to trust him?" she questioned.

"I do. It's not like I'm not worried about him - he has some personality quirks which do bother me but other than that… well, without him I don't know if I would've made it to Leaky Cauldron at all. He was the one who told me about the Knight Bus and all. If he wanted to harm me, I doubt he would've brought me to a place with lot of wizards and witches around," Harry said and stood up. "Shall we get going?" he asked with a grin. "I can't wait until you see the book they've assigned for our Care of Magical Creatures."

x

Merry Xmas :3 Unbeta'd, if some grammar errors and such bother you, let me know and I shall fix


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